#turns me into a garbage fire for sure

[frnkiebby]

thank you specifically to this man for giving me (us) bloody frnk~🎃

#a goddamn hero #thankyou blood man #ilysm #fucking bloody frank is a top fave for me #so goddamn gorgeous #makes me stupid #turns me into a garbage fire for sure #fucking degenerate #frnkiebby #frank iero #mcr #mcr5 #mcrmy #frnkiero #frnkie #my chemical romance #my chem

[arieswritez]

glad you and this account exist, I feel like there’s a lack of Mark lovers lmao! but omg I can’t stop thinking about him, I feel feral but for the purpose of discussion I have to ask: what do you think his d!ck would look like?

cw; scummy bf!mark x gn!reader, abusive relationships (physical & emotional), angst, stalking, spying, harassment, manipulation, gaslighting.

a/n; i am super late but mark would have tHEE prettiest dick ever !! & i'll prove it!!!! in fact, his dick is SO pretty you'd let him do heinous things if it meant having it in your mouth teehee 🫶🏾🫶🏾 (& because i am not normal: i went on a tangent .. ik ik you didn't ask for this.. lemme alone!!! )

bf! mark who you always wanted to give the benefit of the doubt to. who'd always hide his snide comments under a playful half smile and the guise of it being "just a joke".

bf!mark who'd tell you not to worry about his relationships with other people. who'd say you were just being insecure and that he didn't know how to be with someone that like you. bf!mark who'd always make you cry whenever you voiced your opinions because he always made you feel so stupid, didn't he?

bf! mark who soon turns into exbf!mark because one day he just .. loses it. or at least, that was his excuse.

you've lost your temper many times before. with others. with him. but his anger is much more different than your own.

your anger simmers: the first symptoms of a poison muddying your mind with annoyance. the type that renders you silent with a lump in your throat. your tongue swollen with words unsaid because. . you know better. and your parent(s) had warned you time and time again about being cautious of what you say to those you love.

mark's anger is a roaring boil. explosive with scalding steam.

mark's anger is a burning fire caused by popping oil and you're the water who was naively thrown onto it in order to extinguish it. his anger is just as unpredictable as it is brief. and although you were used to the smallest of inconveniences turning into shouting matches, you thought you had mark all figured out.

plead your case. stand your ground.

wither.

apologize.

admit you were wrong.

even if you were sure you weren't.

it was the only way you could end your arguments. and you were good at playing that game. until you weren't. until the eggshells you were walking on cut the soles of your feet. up until that point, you'd never seen mark's ego so hurt.

and the backhand he gives you sends you to the ground with your right ear ringing.

as soon as you hit the floor, he's on his knees before you, cradling your face, so inconsolable anyone would've thought you hit him.

the soft press of his kisses, peppering across your face contrast with the burning sting of your cheek as he murmurs, "i don't know what got into me! i just get so angry - i swear i didn't mean to hit you that hard!"

and as you stared at him with a blank expression, your mind raced, trying to find an excuse as to what could've warranted that reaction. but for the first time, your mind went blank. and although you nodded along with his apologies and allowed him to wipe the tears from your eyes, you knew there was nothing mark could do to fix it.

you let him think everything was ok. you smile at his jokes and let him cuddle you in his sleep. . even if his hands always found themselves wrapped around your throat.

then, one day, you just. . disappear. block him from everything and register to online classes instead of in person. you stuff his 'borrowed' hoodies and expensive gifts in a garbage bag and leave it in front of his dorm.

you even go as far as to donate all the stuffed animals he gave you.

well. .

almost all.

there is one you specifically like. mostly because debbie was the one who picked it out for you. you always had a soft spot for her.

you still do. so much so that, despite the fact that you want nothing to do with mark - and the fact that you're terrified of him - you find yourself missing her.

so you keep it.

and, sure, you know there's a psychology book somewhere stating it hinders your ability to truly move on. and maybe it's right.

maybe looking at it makes your brain revert back to bittersweet memories of mark and debbie. the way she'd made her home a safe space. you're sure she'd be ashamed to find out of everything mark put you through. but you decide to keep your distance. keep the peace, and all. you couldn't bare telling her why the two of you broke up.

but you still have the text message she sent you.

i'm sorry things didn't work out. you were good for mark. we miss you.

little do you know: the stuffed animal was mark's favorite, too.

but not for the same sappy reason.

& yes, it's because he placed a tiny camera into the cute bear :)

it was a risky move but you were far too predictable. his mother was practically a saint to you. he couldn't imagine you throwing her gift away. after all, what had she ever done to you? thank god for debbie.

now, he doesn't have to be with you to watch you cuddle the stuffed toy. he doesn't have to stand underneath your window to hear you sob into its soft fur. and it's addicting, really, watching you just be in the comfort of your room because you've completely exiled him from your life. and really, who do you think you are? you make him angry enough to hit you and you're the victim?

you didn't know how and when to keep your mouth shut. that's something you should learn. and seeing as how your parent(s) hadn't sat you down and talked to you about it. . mark figured he'd be the one to teach you that lesson.

but you're spoiled.

you're sensitive.

and you obviously don't take kindly to discipline.

and as much as he loves to keep his little secret of watching you on his phone screen. . it kills him to know you won't let him anywhere near you.

but don't forget it: you still belong to him <3 and in any moment that he wants you, he could very easily have you.

one night, with the plushie at the foot of your bed, he watches you squirm. his brows furrow, rolling onto his stomach, getting comfortable as he stares at his phone screen, wondering if you're having a nightmare. the night vision camera captures the way your body moves, every toss and turn. . and then. . every miniscule roll of your hips.

he watches you kick off the blankets and he feels his cock throb in his sweatpants when he sees you aren't wearing any bottoms. . . or underwear. his hands are shaking as he watches you begin to touch yourself. and the sounds you make have him so enraptured that he barely registers when he starts to grind against the bed.

you must feel vulnerable. . watched? . . because you grab the plushie. but you don't just chuck it away. you don't look directly into its eyes and call mark an asshole like he feels you will. no. instead, you hug the stuffed toy to your chest. and even though mark can't see a damn thing anymore - you're covering the camera, fuck - he can hear you perfectly now.

the way your breath hitches and hiccups. your whines, the gasps, the faint whispers he has to strain to listen to. . incoherent whimpers of please and yes, and as he humps his bed. . it's the whisper of his name that throws him over the edge.

a few days later, you receive a message from a strange number with a video attached to it.

in hindsight, you should know better. you've been on the internet long enough to know not everything is meant to be clicked on. but for some reason, you don't think twice to open it.

on the screen, you only see a white light, before you realize it's a flashlight from a phone.

and then a cock comes into view.

you're far too surprised to turn your phone off.

it's so hard it looks painful.

it's thick, thick enough that the fist that comes into view doesn't completely wrap around it. the head an angry red, a drop of pre beading from the tip.

the fist gives a few experimental strokes, then up to the head, where it squeezes, milking, and the drop of precum smudges and dribbles across knuckles. the hand slides down again, and cups the tan, plump, balls at the base.

you hear a groan. and something about it makes you throb. you can't quite put your finger on why. . but you find yourself too transfixed to look away.

you watch as the stranger strokes their cock with growing fervor and the way their hand moves gives you a familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach. there's a small voice in the back of your mind, whispering could it be. your face scrunches up in disgust but you still can't tear your eyes away from your phone screen. nor can you deny the way as your heart picks up speed.

it's only when you hear his voice that your suspicions are confirmed,

"miss you so bad, baby." mark's voice drawls, the breathy words cut off by a groan. "need you here with me again."

you should block him.

you should change your number. your fucking government name and area code if necessary.

you should delete the message, turn off your phone, and be over the whole situation but you don't. his whines and moans arouse you like some sort of fucked up pavlovian response and before you know it, your hands are working along with his.

you'll regret this. the little voice tells you matter-of-factly when you pick up speed the same time he does.

you'll regret this. it hisses when your breath catches in your throat. when your face burns as you close your eyes and work yourself in a frenzy, hips rolling, imagining . . wishing . . mark was there with you, too.

you'll regret this. when you muffle a cry of his name with the palm of your hand when you hear the soft, expletive filled whispers of his orgasm. he sounds so good. so pitiful it reminds you of the first few times the two of you were intimate. times in which mark pretended he was gentle and sweet. when he pretended the hickies he sucked into your neck were purely accidental.

he sounds like your mark.

you'll regret this. this time, the voice sounds tired. like a disappointed friend at their wits end, trying to talk you down from relapsing from an addiction.

the voice goes silent.

obviously tired of you once you save the unknown number into your contacts.

#mark grayson x reader #invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson #yandere mark grayson x reader #yandere mark grayson #i would take him back teehee <3 #HE'S A GOOD MAN SAVANNAH!! #motorboat sounds

[etheries1015]

The Demon brothers w/ MC who has arachnophobia

Arachnophobia: the irrational and extreme fear of spiders

TW: Arachnophobia, panic attacks, vomit

Overview: The brothers decide to make a bet on who can find your fear, and when one hits home and they don’t get the reaction they were truly hoping for, they comfort you in your time of panic. 

Featuring: Lucifer, Asmodeus, Leviathan, Mammon, Satan

WARNING: I wrote this almost two years ago and it’s been just sitting inside of my drafts wasting away until I could find the motivation to write for the last couple of brothers. I did not find that motivation lol. So this has not been proofread, and I decided to just throw it into the pit of fire and share it anyway! Hope you like it nonetheless, but it definitely is not the best of my works. Please keep this in mind while reading.

Otherwise, take a look at my master list to see other works I do! 

Authors note: Based my reaction to real things I personally feel regarding arachnophobia . I can't even look at pictures of them without feeling sick to my stomach, so the reaction is truly how I would feel in this situation... Hope I'm not the only one with this extreme fear, and hopefully its a little relatable.

Scenario:

There weren't many things the MC is afraid of, so it seems.

"So...MC, tell me," Solomon started, "If being surrounded by all of these demons and magic doesn't shake you up, what DOES scare you?" He smiled gently, that mysterious smile. Around the dinner table were all of the brothers during a community dinner at the House of Lamentation, staring intently at MC who only shrunk down into their seats. Chuckling nervously, MC rolled their eyes in slight annoyance.

"That...is something I'm not going to share with you," a cheerful smile planted upon their lips.

That was the very sentence that brought us to our...current situation.

A week passed, the brothers tried everything from ghost stories to walks in the woods late at night. Pretty tame, don't you think? They had a list of different possible fears a normal human may have, since the typical situations the MC found themselves in the devildom seem to not leave a dent in their confidence or bravery. One night, during meal preparation, came their next plan.

"Spiders? Really, Mammon? Levi?" Asmodeus sassily crossed his arms shaking his head in disapproval, leaning against the countertop.

"Hey, trust me. I read this thing -"

"You, Reading?" Satan interrupted Mammon, causing the brothers to snicker.

"Shut it!" Mammon growled, taking a small plastic spider and setting it in the bowl of food meant for MC, "I'm sure ima win this one," he proudly proclaimed, "I looked up a buncha different human fears and this seemed to be a popular one."

"You guys are such kids..." Belphie yawned, trudging to the dining room, "Let’s go eat, Beel."

The red-headed twin looked back at the bowl with a worried expression before turning back on his heel to follow his brother. Each of them entered the dining room where MC sat waiting, along with the group from purgatory hall. A smile was planted on their lips as they joked with the angels and fellow human, thanking Mammon as he set their food in front of them.

"Ah..." MC looked up at Mammon with a confused look, "Thank...you? I could have dished up myself-"

Mammon cut them off saying something rushed and embarrassed along the lines of "I can be nice when I want to, don't get the wrong idea, though!" Before taking his own seat.

The brothers stared in anticipation, watching MC lead the spoon up to their lips

Looking back down at the bowl, MC froze in shock for a moment.

That was when they saw it.

Your reaction

With a shaking hand, you drop the spoon and covered your mouth with your hand, ready to throw up. You quickly pushed the chair back causing it to fall, running to the nearest garbage to throw up what you had eaten. At this point, you were now a shaking, sobbing mess. Your heart was beating so fast, the reveal of the spider in your meal replaying in your head. You couldn't even bring yourself to close your eyes to try and collect yourself, all you could see was that...wretched creature every time you saw darkness.

Their reaction:

Lucifer:

He sensed the immense fear from you immediately and quickly took the initiative to remove the bowl from your grasp.

Though he had taken away the source, he could feel the buildup of fear continue.

He stared in shock for a moment, even though he took away the bowl, you still had reacted the way you did.

After getting over the moment of shock from your state, he had rushed to your side.

He had never seen you so shaken up, he wasn't sure if he should even touch you in fear of making it somehow worse.

Excused himself and you from the table to take you to the kitchen to breath, hugging you when he knew it was okay to do so. (We love consent here)

He thought it was silly, fearing something so small when you don't even struggle with CERBERUS, a literal giant demon dog.

"I don't fully understand the reasoning, but..." He cupped your cheeks with his long, slender fingers gently , looking you intently in the eyes, "I will not allow some little bug take away your smile from us. Or me."

Has the house deep cleaned for any cobwebs or reminders of spiders, he knows how it feels to be so afraid of something that any reminder of said fear is painful, no matter how little or big that fear may be.

Hung Mammon up for the entire idea

This man would protect you from anything, even from a small insect that he has no understanding the fear behind it.

Mammon:

Poor puppy had no idea what to do other than panic, color draining from his face the second he saw your shaking hand and the yelp of fear escape your lips.

Doesn't apologize at first with words, but with actions.

Runs to your side while you are doubled over in fear over the garbage can, wanted to pat your back but instead he just awkwardly waits for you to look at him once you're done throwing up.

Oh boy. He looks like a kicked puppy the second he saw the tears streaming down your face, shaking like crazy.

Wasn't sure what to say, so he just pulled you into his arms.

"I'm ....sorry," he mumbled, awkwardly patting your back in attempt to comfort you.

Will tease you after though, and brag that he won for finding out your fear.

Never did it again, and is secretly on the look out for any spiders around you or the house so he can rid of it before you see it.

He's weak for your tears <3

Leviathan:

He doesn't even know what to do, when you start running to the garbage can he only stares in surprise.

Honestly , he probably isn't the type to actively comfort you right away, he's trying to think of what he could do to help later on instead.

Walks up to you while you're calming down, before asking if you are okay 

Genuinely doesn't understand the fear behind such a small creature, there are millions of other things much scarier in the games you play together.

He would give behind the scenes comfort, making sure his brothers don't bring anything regarding spiders up, and will make sure to proof watch/read manga, anime, and games to make sure it doesn't have anything to trigger your arachnophobia

"I know you think I'm just a weird gross otaku but... I care about these things too! I'll make sure you can enjoy all of our anime and gameplay nights without worrying about something like that!"

Cuddles and anime night with a comfort anime of your choice.

Asmodeus:

He definitely doesn't understand the reasoning behind such a fear, but he too, is willing to ignore that fact when it comes to you.

He doesn't LIKE them because they are unsightly, but for sure isn't AFRAID of them, and thought at first you were the same.

That was...until he saw the genuine fear in your eyes after he ran after you and patted your back as you vomited.

He doesn't do anything directly to help you avoid spiders, but will do anything to comfort you. Head rubs, movie nights in his room, he is more of a .... "Distract yourself from your problems and fears instead of face them" kind of demon.

"Look at me , into my eyes. Forget those awful little things," he gently grabs your hand and sets his forehead against yours, "they can't hurt you, darling. It'll be okay. If you're still scared, shall we sleep together tonight?" He giggles.

He loves you and tries very hard to make you feel better, since your being is (almost) more important than his own. But he isn't always the best at this, since loving others more than him is a bit of a new concept.

He's trying for you xoxo

Satan:

He never thought he would ever see you break with something like this

But understands well enough, he had extended knowledge on different human fears, all the better for his class on manipulating humans...

The calm one, cleaning up the mess while the others panic to be by your side.

Angrily lectures all of the brothers on arachnophobia and the side effects and reactions you may have if this happened again.

Whispering sweet words of comfort as you sob and shake in his arms. Gently rubbing your back while glaring at the brothers. While they could sense your fear, Satan's anger was far greater.

Does blame himself a little bit, since he was aware of the plan but didn't particularly do anything to actively stop it. But makes up for it xoxo

"I know a good cat café near by, if you're up for it, I'll buy you whatever you want as an apology." He kissed your forehead gently.

Before suggesting any books to read, he proof reads them for any sign of spiders, pictures or in depth descriptions could be just as traumatizing! 

Since his room is always a constant mess of books, it’s bound to become dusty. Now, before you enter his room, he makes sure that even if his books are not cleaned up, that the cobwebs and dust is taken care of. 

#Obey me #Obey me shall we date #Obey me lucifer #Leviathan obey me #Obey me x reader #obey me shall we date x reader #Obey me Mammon #Obey me asmodeus #Obey me satan #Asmodeus x reader #Mammon x reader #Leviathan x reader #Lucifer x reader #Satan x reader #Obey me fanfiction #Obey me fanfic #Obey me head cannon

[filthgarbage86]

Okay I literally do not know where this came from please do not criticize or say anything about this, I do not know lol oh my gods

CW: pussy eating, praise kink, a lot of dirty talk, a lot of possessive talk mentions, primary? Is that what it’s called? The one where you’re like animalistic for the other slightly? If you squint. Squirting, filth, garbage.

Okay but can you imagine

Just imagine for a second

You and Eddie are cleaning up after hell fire. You had just recently started dating, you were maybe 2-3 months in, and sure, you had been a little intimate. A little kissing-make out sessions, harmless groping, the works. But he still hadn’t gone as much as to like..touch you.

And you see him. You know him. You know how he kisses you, you feel how much he wants you and needs you - but it’s like something is holding him back. You’re trying to figure out what.

At this point, Eddie is still packing up but is looking over at you every now and then, realizing you are deep in thought. You are checked out and somewhere else. He’d stop and stare for a moment or two, waiting to see if you snapped out of it yourself before “hey babe?” You snap up immediately, looking at him with the lights behind him, his hair still looking frizzed out and a little crazy post-session. He had been so into this session, the gang had finished the campaign and it was a long night of adrenaline. You think about the passion in Eddie’s eyes then and you think back now to this moment.

“Babe? Baaabby? Angel what’s got you so dazed out? What are you thinking about?”

You look at him, thinking about tonight, thinking about the confidence and passion and drive that he had, think about how he made you feel, and you decided right there and then-

“I think you should eat me out.”

The world is silent. You can hear a pin drop, you’re convinced. Eddie is looking at you, wide eye and processing did I really just hear that right? I’m not dreaming right?

The silence has you spiraling. You had been known to be honest and straightforward, but that was just blunt. However, Eddie’s gapping jaw soon slowly inches up becomes a big, cheeky, dorky grin of “can I right now?”

You nod and giggle nervously at his enthusiasm, not long before you’re giggles turns to oh- at him clinging to you. He’s ravishing you, covering you with heavy kisses around your face, your throat, the place behind your ears, and collarbone. He is mapping out your body and thanking you repeatedly like you had just answered his prayers.

“You have” he pauses only to move from across your throat to the other “no idea” throat to face “how long” face to chest “I’ve wanted to devour you.” He’s moving downwards with urgency but not missing an inch of your skin he can get to. He’s kneeling there, in the dungeons of the high school, grabbing at your waist, hips, ass, thighs, anywhere he can grab at you, through clothes unfortunately. Literally on his knees, look up at you with those big, brown eyes that this point are almost black. Eddie had completely turned to lust in this moment.

“Please baby, on the table” he looks at you and silently asks if he can take off your skirt/pants and you’re just nodding, already a bit in a daze. You never realized you were what was holding Eddie back.

“If I had know you wanted me like this, I would have said something a while ag- oh”

He has in that time stripped your clothes down to your ankles, put your legs over his shoulders, hooked his arms under your thighs and immediately sucked on your clit. He suckled there for a while, moaning at the taste, eating you like he had been starved and you were the first taste of relief for him. The vibrations have you a moaning mess within a few moments.

“Eddie!”

“Shhh baby I’ve waited so long to meet her, don’t bother my introduction.”

You’re blushing like a tomato at the way he’s talking to your pussy like it’s his. His to have and to enjoy. He’s not wrong, at all, especially if he treasures it this much.

He suddenly slows. Mind-numbing slows. Painfully, sinfully slow. He is spelling out the ABCs, forwards, backwards, his name to really let it be known. He is taking his sweet, precious time and you do not know how much longer you’re going to last like this.

“Eddie, honey, baby, I promise this won’t be the last time, I just really need to cum. Please baby. I really really need to cum.”

“Oh my gods first you ask me so nicely to eat your delicious pussy and now I get to eat your cum? Fuck baby, go for it, give it to me. Please give it baby, I know you can do it, cum on my mouth and give me everything you’re willing to.”

You’re blushing down to your chest and you’re sent over the edge with Eddie’s praise. His words are cut silent by the sounds of your finish echoing around the dungeon and your release dripping down his chin.

He laps up every drop of you, making sure you’re clean and he’s clean. You’ve never felt so deliciously and disgustingly wet at the same time. He stands up, wiping off his chin with his hands and licking off the excess from his fingers and looks at you like you just gave him the winning lottery ticket.

“That was a really good thought sweetheart. You should think of those thoughts more often. And let me know.”

You’re out of breathe, closed eyes still in bliss, when you breathe out “Give me a minute to rest and I’ll probably have dreamt a thing or two.”

Just you know.. imagine.

#eddie x you #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie Munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie x y/n smut #stranger things 4 #I’m so sorry #for this absolute filth

[tkwrites]

Back to You - Matthew Tkachuk x Jessie (ofc)

gif from @drysaladandketchup

Title: Back To You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Matthew Tkachuck  x Jessie (ofc)

Warnings: Swearing, lots of flirting. Slow burn. Smut at the end: fingering (f receiving), oral (f and m receiving).

Summary: Jessie and Matthew meet at a New Years Eve party and form an instant connection. When a fire rips them apart, can fate bring them back together? 

Word Count: 12,700

Comments: This is my entry for @wyattjohnston‘s winter fic exchange written for @luvsherleafs

This is by far the longest piece I’ve written for Tumblr. I had a really clear vision of where I wanted it to go, and I eventually got it there. In the end, I’m so proud of how it turned out. I hope you enjoy, and would love to know what you think.

Many, many thanks to Mari @eyesthatroll and Bre @fallinallincurls for looking this over and assuring me it wasn’t garbage when I was in the trenches of writing. 

Me and you  We were a strange situation  And kissing you  Felt like Christmas Vacation  An exciting place to escape  Sometimes I wish that I could've stayed Cause you were my favorite Holiday  -Christmas Vacation by LØLØ

Back to You

Matthew couldn't tear his eyes away from her and knew he wasn't the only one. 

With dark hair cascading down her back in a long, shiny waterfall, big eyes and a plump little mouth that looked just made for kissing, she was the kind of classic girl next door people wrote into movies and books for the hero to find his way back to.

He especially liked what she was wearing. Bare legs weren’t really something he would advise at two hours to January in Ottawa, but at least it wasn’t a mini skirt like most women were tugging at constantly. Her shorts had a gold stripe on the sides that caught the flashing lights, as if they might have once been extravagant tuxedo pants tailored explicitly to show off her curvy legs. Her dark shirt had flecks of something metallic in the fabric - a wrapped and tied number like he’d never seen before. 

Laughter was all over her face as she danced with the people around her. Slamming her foot (clad in gold oxfords) down with the beat before circling her hips in time with the music. 

“Do you need a towel, man?” 

“What?” Matthew asked, pulling his eyes away to look at his brother.

“I asked if you needed a towel,” Brady repeated, failing to keep the teasing smile off his face, “for the drool.”    

Matthew flipped him off, and Brady laughed. 

“Go talk to her,” he encouraged, pushing Matthew off the bar stool. “I’m sick of watching you sit here and stare at her. Go do something about it.”  

He hesitated. It hadn't been that long since he’d broken up with Heidi.

“Go,” Brady repeated, shoving him across the walkway onto the dance floor. “Move on.”

Although he wasn't sure if he was ready to meet someone new, Matthew knew Brady was right. He’d be kicking himself come morning if he let a woman this good looking go without at least shooting his shot. 

As he weaved through the crowd of dancers, his competitive drive growled in his chest, pleased. He’d be damned if he let someone else get to her first.

“Your admirer is coming this way,” Roger said, nodding to someone over Jessie’s shoulder. 

She glanced over. A tallish guy with curly hair was walking right at her, a determined intensity all over his handsome face. Her gaze swung back to Roge, eyes wide. 

“Just letting you know so you can prepare,” he said with a wink. “I told you those shorts would bring all the boys.” 

Although she'd made them for the occasion, she didn't think they would pull the amount of attention they were getting. Her clothes often garnered a lot of lingering glances, though they usually came from other women. 

Someone tapped on her shoulder and she turned.

The same guy was standing in front of her. He was much taller up close, had light eyes, and his hair looked like it might be blonde. It was hard to tell under the dim dancefloor lights. 

He flashed her a charismatic smile. The gap between his front teeth only added to his charm. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, leaning in and yelling to be heard over the music. 

Jessie wasn’t generally the type to accept drinks from random strangers, but this guy was hot, had nice style, and of all the dudes that had stared at her that evening, was the first one to do something about it. 

“Sure,” she yelled back. 

“Wanna go to the bar?”

After she nodded and they started walking through the mass of dancers, she glanced over her shoulder. Roge lifted his phone out of his pocket and shook it at her. His flashlight turned on. 

She sent him a text about going to the bar and his flashlight, made sure the ringer was turned on, and slipped her phone back into her shorts pocket. Another good thing about making her own clothes: she could make the pockets as big as she needed.

Matthew couldn’t keep the smug smile off his face at the glares and disappointed looks that followed them to the bar.

“What'll you have?” the bartender asked as they came to a stop in the corner of the club. It was a bit quieter. 

“A mojito, please” she said, before gathering her hair into a fist behind her and running her hand down the length of it. 

Momentarily distracted by her actions and the flash of dark red, the bartender had to ask him again what he wanted. 

“Beer would be great,” he said, flashing a bright smile, “whatever light you recommend.” Glancing back at the girl, he ran a hand through his hair to make sure it wasn’t doing something stupid, and said, “I'm Matthew, by the way. “

“Jessie. Are you from around here?”

“No, but my brother lives here. You?”

“My family is from here, but I'm usually in the states.” she said, watching the bartender muddle the mint in her drink. He didn’t seem to be doing anything funny with it. 

“Yeah? Which one?”

“New York. Well, technically New Jersey, but I study in New York.”

“What do you study?” Matthew asked, lifting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“Fashion.”

“I should have guessed,” he said. 

“You should have?”

“Yeah. You have great style.”

The smile that spread over her face made him want to kiss her. 

“What do you do, Matthew?” she asked, as she brought the black straw in her drink to her mouth. She caught it between her tongue and teeth before her lips wrapped around it. 

His train of thought ran off the rails with visions of her mouth wrapping around other things.

Thankfully, autopilot kicked in and saved him from looking like a total creep, “I play hockey.” 

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I'm based in Florida.”

“Why the hell are you in Ottawa for New Years,” she asked, aghast, “when you could be somewhere warm?”

“We played here yesterday, so my family are all staying with my brother. Why are you here?”

“My dad grew up here, and wanted us to experience the joys of the frozen tundra at Christmastime,” she said with a long sweep of her hand, as if gesturing to the whole country. 

He laughed again, and held her eye contact. It was so intense, she was the one to break it. 

“Anyway,” she flipped her free hand, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I honestly don’t have that much free time, but I always enjoy a good libation,” he said, holding up his bottle. 

A wide smile spread over his face when she clinked her glass against it as she said, “amen.” 

“And I like to hang out with people and I play a lot of other sports.” 

“I will never understand why athletes always want to play other sports. It’s not like I sew upholstery when I’m not making clothes.” 

He laughed, loud and genuine, and Jessie felt her heart flutter a little. 

“It can be hard to turn off the competitive drive, so it helps to have somewhere to channel it. So did you make these clothes?” he asked, nodding at her outfit. 

“Yeah. I found this gold fabric,” her fingers ran down the stripe on her left hip, “and fell in love with the idea of tuxedo shorts for New Years. I play around with a lot of menswear styles.” 

“I like them,” he said. If he, by some miracle, got nominated for another award, maybe he would get a gold striped tux made. 

“We have to wear suits to all of our games, so I’m always looking for something new and interesting,” he said. 

The conversation lulled for a moment, and he continued, “what do you do for fun?” 

“I also enjoy a good libation,” she clinked her glass against his again, “and I like to play tennis and I love movies.” 

The rest of the night was spent in that little corner of the bar, talking and laughing - Matthew was funny. Quick with a movie quote and a sarcastic comment in her ear. She told him about coming to the club with her cousins, only one of whom she really knew, and he told her about coming with his family. A younger, married brother, and a sister still in college. 

He refreshed their drinks and marveled at finding a woman who could keep up with his banter, genuinely laughed at his jokes and seemed interested in him as a person rather than as Matthew Tkachuk. 

They talked about hockey, she knew some as her dad was Canadian, but not a lot, then about fashion. 

She admitted one of the reasons she’d said yes to his drink had been his pants. 

“Listen, more American men need to understand how many more girls they’d get if they just wore the right pants!” 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Your pants are fitted properly so I can see your ass and your thighs, and it makes you about a thousand times more attractive.” 

A cocky smile spread over his face, “Oh, yeah?” he asked, leaning into her space. 

She gulped, “yeah. If more men wore pants like yours, they wouldn’t be single.” 

He stayed in her space, and her eyes darted to his lips. He licked them, just to see what she would do at the flash of his tongue. 

Her eyes darted back to his and her cheeks pinked. He smiled. 

The music changed to a slower, more house-style song he recognised. Jessie bumped her shoulders to the beat. 

“Do you want to dance?” Matthew asked.  

“Sure.” 

They moved to the floor, and he watched, entranced as she swung her hips in rhythm.

When she turned around, pressing flush against him, his right hand immediately grasped her hip, as if that might provide some kind of grounding from the fluttering feeling in his chest. 

It wasn’t like this had never happened - girls grinding up on him. It happened quite a lot, actually. Sometimes without any kind of consent. But this? Jessie? He couldn't get enough. She was pretty and they had the kind of instant chemistry you couldn't fake. 

He found himself thinking about her beyond that night. A first since Heidi. 

For her part, Jessie couldn't stand not touching him any longer. The chemistry between them was so palpable, she was surprised other club goers weren’t getting caught in it. Feeling him move against her made desire rumble to life in her belly, growling to be released. 

They danced that way for - Matthew lost track of how many songs. She felt amazing pressed up against him. He was so in tune with how they moved together, the dancing felt like foreplay. 

When the countdown to midnight began, she turned to face him. They were still so close - she could feel his body heat seeping through his clothing and into hers, see the way his button down was just starting to cling to his skin. 

Matthew looked down at her, not hiding any of his interest. She looked back with so much hope and lust in her eyes, his stomach twisted. 

“Three, two, one!” the crowd cheered. 

He leaned down, then paused, “okay?” 

Rising onto her toes, she closed the gap between them in answer. 

All of their flirting was leading up to this moment, and Jessie wasn’t disappointed at all. It was as if everything around them faded into soft focus and the din of the crowd melted away. It was better than she could have imagined. His tongue brushed along hers, and heat flooded her stomach. 

Matthew angled closer when her fingers slid into his hair. His hand splayed over her lower back. He wished he didn’t have this beer bottle so he could have both hands on her.

It went on and on for what felt like ages - a promise of things to come. 

Someone cat called from nearby, and Jessie broke away, pursing her lips to hide how flustered she felt. At least he was as breathless as she was, his chest expanding to the confines of his shirt with every inhale. 

They stared at each other for a moment longer, not quite engaged with the crowd, which was growing increasingly restless with the New Year in full swing.

She was debating between kissing him again, or asking if he wanted to leave all together when the lights went out, plunging them into total darkness. 

The suddenness of it made her laugh. She thought it must be some kind of prank until all at once, a mono tone alarm started to scream. Lights began to strobe - harsh, bright flashes that instantly made spots appear in her vision. 

The word “fire” was popping up in the crowd.

Just as he was starting to register what was happening, murky water cascaded from the ceiling. 

The club was dissolving into chaos. Matthew snapped out of his reverie, and looked around for Taryn. 

“I have to find my sister,” he told her.

As Jessie's face was illuminated by the flashing lights, she looked stricken and worried. 

“I’ll call you, though!” he promised.

“But -” she watched him run off, knowing she hadn't given him her number. She didn't even know his last name. 

“Jessie!” Roger yelled from somewhere to her left. Her eyes roved for him, and landed when he shouted again, waving his cell phone flashlight in his own face.

She ran to him, and they followed the swarming crowd outside. 

To her complete surprise, smoke was pouring out of the building and the fire department was pulling up. She had been certain someone had pulled the alarm as a prank. 

“Fuck it’s cold out here,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, as if that would do any good. Her coat was inside, a pair of wool tights tucked in one of the pockets. She'd planned to put them on in the bathroom before they left. 

“We should call it,” Lacey said. “Catch the next train. If we hurry we won't have to wait for another one.”

“But my coat’s in there,” Jessie complained. She hadn't made it, but she may as well have, she’d altered it so much. It was the best thing in her wardrobe. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Roger assured, “but Lacey’s right, we should get out of here. We’re soaked and it’s below freezing.”

It wasn't just the coat. She didn’t want to lose Matthew. She hoped she might run into him in the parking lot, but had yet to see him.   

Roger and Lacey were right. Her wet clothing was already starting to freeze - stiffening and biting into her skin. Glancing around the crowd once more, she hoped she might see him, but there were too many people moving in too many different directions. 

As Roger pulled her away, she hoped against hope the universe would bring them back together. It had been so long since she'd felt a spark like she had with him.

“Who was that girl you were kissing at midnight?” Taryn asked, her tone suggestive as she waggled her eyebrows at her oldest brother. 

“Her name is Jessie,” he said, looking around for Brady. He finally spotted him with Emma and some of the Sens guys across the parking lot. 

“Seemed pretty serious.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “We got on, that’s all.” 

“I’ve seen you look like that before, and that was not just getting on with someone,” Taryn argued. “I hope you got her number.” 

“I did,” he assured, then stopped dead in their pursuit through the crowd. 

Taryn ran into his back. “Matthew!” she complained. 

He was too busy digging his phone out of his pocket to apologize or move out of the way. Thankfully, it wasn’t ruined. As he opened his recent contacts, though, he found his fear confirmed. 

Taryn pushed on his back, “Matthew, move! I wanna get inside.” 

The older brother in him took control, wrapping his arm around Taryn's shoulder to lead them to Brady and finally into the car to go home. 

As they settled into the SUV, heat blasting to melt the ice that had formed in their hair and on their cheeks, Emma punched Matthew in the arm. “That was some New Year's kiss, Matty.” 

The disappointment of reality bit into him, and he snapped, “I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Whoa,” Brady said in warning. 

Matthew leaned forward, putting his head in his hands. The possibility of her was still buzzing on his skin. 

The future was being ripped out of his grasp. How could so much hope be dashed so quickly? So completely? He'd been making plans in his head. Immediately, where they were going to spend the night if she was willing. Beyond that, how he would see her whenever he was in New York, and beyond that? Hopefully something that ended up with them together. 

“Oh no,” Taryn whispered, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. “You didn’t get her number did you?” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, Matthew,” Taryn said, laying a hand on his back, “I’m sorry.” 

The rest of the night, he lay in Brady’s guest bedroom, Taryn in the bed next to his, and tried to relax. It wasn’t working. He could still feel the phantom of her grinding up against him, and if he thought about it too much, he got hard. 

Opening Instagram, he typed “Jessie” into the search. There were pages and pages of results. He scrolled through, hoping he might see her face. When the photos started to blur together, he clicked off the app. 

Feeling hopeless, he pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jessie’s face was etched on the inside of his eyelids. He saw her smiling, heard her laugh ringing in his ears, felt her lips so perfectly fitted between his own. They should have been tangled up in bed together. The actuality of his loneliness was a slap in the face every time he turned over. 

It was after four when he finally fell asleep.

He woke sometime around 10am when Taryn sat by his feet. 

“Mom wants to know why you’re still in bed,” she said when he sat up, rubbing his hands over his face. “I told her you were hungover.” 

“Thanks,” he said dryly.  

“Listen, I heard you last night.” 

His hands dropped and he gave her a suspicious look. “And what did you hear last night?” 

She took a deep breath. “I heard you crying.” 

A groan fell out of his mouth as his head tipped back. He didn’t even try to deny it. It hadn’t lasted long, the crying, but he hadn’t been able to stop it for a few minutes. He was sure Taryn heard his sniffling. 

“Is this about that girl?” 

“Listen, Taryn, I don’t want to -” 

She cut in, “Matthew, I saw the way you looked after you kissed her. It’s the same way Brady looks at Emma.”

Shit. He was in deeper than he thought. And they hadn’t even slept together yet. He didn’t even know her last name. If he knew her last name, he’d be able to find her. 

Letting his hands fall in his lap, he slouched over, and let the reality of what happened wash over him again. He would get over it eventually, but now? It felt too close to push aside. 

Taryn’s hand came to rest on his knee, “I was thinking, what if she left something at the club? I mean, people must have left coats and things with the fire alarm. We could at least try. See if you can leave your number for her, or something.” 

A spark of hope flickered to life in his chest. “Yeah, that’s a really good idea.” 

Jessie wasn’t too surprised to see the tent in front of the club when they pulled up. The post on their Instagram page said they would be available for people to pick up their belongings all day. Two women were sitting there, bundled up to the hilt. As she got closer, she saw the propane heaters. At least that was something. 

“How can we help you, darlin?” 

“Yeah, I was here last night, and I hoped I could get my coat that I left with the coat check?” 

One of the women stood, “what does it look like?” 

“It’s a black wool trench, and it has sort of wavy lapels,” she demonstrated on herself. “There’s a pair of gray wool tights in the left pocket.” 

She walked over to a rack behind their table.

The Club had seen better days, that was for sure. Some of the glass had been blown out from the heat, and there were charred bricks on the front from where the flames had licked out the windows. 

“Is it condemned?” 

“No, but it’ll take us a while to remodel, especially with the winter,” the other woman said, giving her a smile. 

“Did they find out what caused it?” 

“Not yet, but we’re pretty sure it was some faulty wiring.” 

“Here we go. Is this it?” The other woman, the one with pink hair, turned the coat around. 

Jessie smiled, relieved, “Yes.”

As she reached for the coat, she debated about the next part. What was the harm really? She knew she would be kicking herself all the way home if she didn’t. 

“I know this is a little strange, but I met someone last night, but we were separated before we could exchange numbers, and I wondered if he’d come by?” 

“I’m not sure. We’ve seen quite a few people today.”

“His name was Matthew, and he had curly hair, light eyes, and he was tall.” 

They looked at each other, each shaking their head. “I don’t think we’ve seen anyone like that today.”

She wasn’t sure what she would have done if they had. 

“Do you want to leave a note for him, or something?” 

She chewed on her lip, petting the smoke soaked coat draped over her arm. If he happened to come by, it might work. But what if he didn’t? Or what if some other guy with curly hair came by, and they gave him her note? 

She shouldn’t have even asked. It was fruitless. What did she expect? That he would just walk out of the building: here I am! 

“No,” she said, defeated. “I was just hoping.”

“Well, love has a way of coming back when you least expect it.” 

It felt like such a throw-away thing to say. “Yeah, I hope so,” Jessie said, turning back to her parents' car, parked in the lot.  

Matthew walked up to the women sitting in front of the club. He knew he was used to the Florida warmth by now, and just despised the cold on principle, but sitting out here? In this? They were nuts. 

“Hi, honey,” the older, motherly looking one greeted, “did you leave something here last night?” 

Yeah, my future, he thought. 

“No, I was hoping,” he reached up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I met someone here last night and I was -” 

“Are you Matthew?” the other woman interrupted. 

His eyes shot to hers. “Yeah,” he said, breathless with anticipation. 

“Oh no,” the women looked at each other. One had her hand over her mouth. 

“Someone was just here looking for you.” 

Hope started hammering in his chest. 

“Pretty little thing, lovely red hair.” 

“Yeah,” his heart was running so fast he felt like he might be sick. 

“I’m so sorry honey, we asked her if she wanted to leave a note or something, but she decided not to.” 

Now he really was going to throw up. 

They had been so close. So close to meeting again. Why hadn’t she left a note? Why didn’t he just get her number last night? 

Because he’d planned on asking her for it in the morning. 

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said, hand falling limply at his side. 

“Good luck. I hope she finds her way back to you.” 

“Thanks,” he said, turning back to the car. Taryn was watching with rapt anticipation. He shook his head and her expression fell. 

**Nine Months Later**

For the first time since moving, the bright Florida sunshine didn't make Jessie smile as she got out of bed. That September morning, she woke up to an anxious fluttering in her chest, trying to tell herself it was going to be a day like any other. She would go to the shop and sew that new sculptural blazer for the window. She'd help Raul with his clients and do the same things she’d been doing every other work day for the past three months. 

It didn’t matter that some of the Florida professional hockey team were coming in for suits for the new season. She’d already checked, and there wasn’t a Matthew on the books. 

Even if he did show up, he had probably moved on. It was just her romantic streak that kept him alive in her memory. 

After a few miserable, sulky hours on New Year's Day, Roger had finally suggested she look him up. 

“I don’t know his last name, Roge.” 

“Didn’t you say he plays hockey in Florida?” he’d asked, pulling out his phone. He found a roster for her to look through - all men in blue, none of them Matthew. There wasn’t even a Matthew on the team. 

“I think it’s hopeless,” she said. 

“Hold on, there’s another one.”

“Another what?” 

“Another team.” 

“Here, I think this is him?” he turned the phone around and Matthew was staring at her, a smug little smile on his face. 

Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were blue. And his hair was a dark blonde, with almost a gingery tone to it. 

“Matthew Tkachuk?” she asked, trying to pronounce all the letters. It came out a bit of a garbled mess. 

“Look him up on Insta.” 

So she had. She found him easily. He was verified with over 150 thousand followers. 

She messaged him, hoping. 

Hey this is Jessie from last night before the fire stole our thunder. 

He’d never even seen her message. She had checked every day for a while, then every couple of weeks until she'd all but forgotten about it, moving on with her life. 

Pulling out her phone now, she scrolled down to the thread. The date was still staring at her, no read notifications in sight. 

Matthew wasn't even all that great. That’s what she told herself every time she went on another failed date with some guy so boring she wanted to just drop off the chair and fall asleep on the bar floor. If she let herself believe he really was as charming and interested and built just for her as he’d seemed, she would never go on another set up or app date again. It had been the alcohol and the rush of the new year that had painted him in such rosy light. It was likely he was just another boring dude like all the rest. 

The pink lace she put on under her clothes before going to work was for her, and she wasn’t hoping anyone would get to see it. 

She absorbed herself with structuring the new women’s blazer all morning until the appointment at 2. 

Matthew wasn’t entirely certain why he’d agreed to go with Benny that afternoon. He already had a suit guy in St. Louis. He didn’t need another one. But Sam was persuasive, a few other guys were going, and Matthew was always looking for something new. When you have to wear the same item of clothing over and over again, might as well make it something interesting. 

Walking into the little shop, he could see why Sam liked it. There were racks and racks of interesting fabrics. Subtle and bold patterns and solid colors he never would have considered for a suit before. 

As the other guys got to browsing, Matthew wandered over to the wall of photos. In every one, a short, dark haired man was posing with various people in beautiful suits. Sam was up there as were Barky and Bob. He didn’t know they came here too. Apparently, this was the place to be. 

Something rustled in the back, and he turned. Nothing was there, but a glass cabinet that housed a display of cufflinks. 

“Matthew?” 

His head shot up. 

A pretty young woman who wasn't in any of the photos was standing in the doorway behind the display case, holding up the heavy velvet curtain. He could see a row of sewing machines under her arm. She had on a blue skirt and a green blouse. A fabric flower was attached to her wrist, a porcupine of pins sticking out of it. 

His breath locked in his chest. She was here. In Florida. She was in front of him. The girl from the New Years Eve party he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of for half a season and the whole summer. 

Her hair was shorter than it had been - ending at her collar bone - and a dark auburn red. He supposed it had probably always been that color. She had creamy pale skin with a dusting of freckles across her nose, and shit, had her eyes always been that green? 

He’d never seen her out of that harsh club lighting, he realized. Of course she would be prettier in the daylight. 

The murmuring behind him hushed into silence, and his mind went completely blank, as if he’d never had a thought in his life. 

“Hey,” he heard himself say. The shock of seeing her was so intense, he couldn’t remember her name. He’d just been thinking about her last week after another failed third date.

Sam shot him a questioning look.  

He was in shock. He was overwhelmed. He was… he was… he was acting like an idiot. 

His heart thundered in his ears. She was looking at him like she was trying to figure out if he remembered who she was. 

“Jessie,” she said hesitantly, pointing to her chest. “From New Years?”

Didn’t he remember? His face was branded into her memory. The dream of him - of them - roared to life in her chest unbidden. Her body reacted instantly, as if no time had passed. 

Right. Jessie, Jessie, Jessie, he thought.

Cool. He needed to play this cool. “Oh, hey,” he said. “How’ve you been?” 

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Hope fell right off her face. He saw the moment it happened, and it sliced through him like a knife to the gut. 

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. 

She wasn’t some old acquaintance he hadn’t seen in a while. She was the girl he kept coming back to. The one he thought about after failed dates or that relationship that started at the beginning of the summer only to fizzle out six weeks later. She was his, it might have been, girl.

The man walked in then, forcing her into the shop. “Ah, I see you have met Jessica. She just graduated from FIT in New York,” he bragged, “and is helping us expand into womens suiting. She’s also a marvelous tailor, so she’ll be helping with the suits as well. Jessica, these are the clients I was telling you about. From the ice hockey team. Good clients. They like interesting things.” 

She painted a smile on her face that almost looked convincing. “I can’t wait to help.” 

“You,” Raul said, “I don't know you.”

“Matthew,” he said, holding a hand out to the older Italian man. “Sam said you make the best suits on the eastern seaboard.”

Raul pulled out the leather bound book that served as his ledger, and flipped to the section Jessie had been looking at that morning, simply marked, Hockey.

“Last name?” he asked. 

He spelled it out, then pronounced it, “Tkachuk. The T is silent.” 

Raul nodded, noting the silent letter next to his name. 

“Jessica and I will take your measurements,” he said, gesturing him over to the plinth near the mirrors surrounded by dark wood. 

Jessie picked up a notebook and followed Raul. Matthew had definitely recognised her, he’d been shocked by her appearance, even. Then he treated her like…like a one night stand or an acquaintance he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to reunite with. It hurt more than it should have to have the things she was telling herself come true. 

She had hoped Raul would let her help the other clients, but luck seemed to be against her. At least he hadn’t handed her the tape. She didn’t know what she would have done if  her hands brushed against Matthew’s body. She already felt on edge just being in the same room as him. 

“Very important to get the thigh measurement with these hockey players,” Raul was saying as he threaded a measuring tape around Matthews upper thigh. “Big legs.” 

“It’s from all the skating,” Matthew said, almost out of habit. 

Jessie was doing a very good job of not looking at him. She had a little notebook in her hands and she kept her eyes trained on it as she wrote down every body part and corresponding number Raul called out. Upper thigh, lower thigh, calf, hip to knee, knee to ankle. Matthew had been measured like this before, so he just stood still and let the man do his work. 

“So, Jessie, right?” Josh asked, leaning onto one of the mirrors, nearby where she was standing, not quite in Matthew’s peripheral vision. 

She hummed in agreement. Raul was still calling out numbers to her, and she couldn’t divide her focus that well. 

“What brought you all the way down to Florida from New York?” 

Matthew clenched his jaw to keep from telling Josh off. As much as he wanted it, he didn’t have any claim over Jessie.

“Um,” she said, still jotting numbers. She spared a glance at him. He had long, unruly, dark hair, dark eyes, and a goofy smile. She smiled back, “can you give me just a minute to finish up here?” she asked, pointing at Matthew’s stomach with the cap of her pen. 

Josh blushed, “yeah, of course.” 

She went back to her notebook, face impassive once more. 

Josh stayed where he was. 

“So Chucky, what do you think about the schedule this year?” 

Matthew shrugged, then snapped himself back into place at Rauls reprimand. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Jessie gagged internally. hoping that wasn’t really his nickname. Chucky was either a possessed doll, or a possessed rat mascot, neither of which she liked to think about for very long. 

They continued to talk about something with their team. When she and Raul finished, she handed the notebook off to him, which he would transcribe into the ledger. He still didn’t trust her to do it the way he liked. 

Matthew didn’t move off the plinth, but she turned to the other man, “sorry, what was your question?” 

She sounded so polite, so formal. Sure, they’d only met that one night, but she hadn’t been guarded like this at that club in Ottawa. He supposed that was probably his fault. God, why was he such an idiot?

“I wondered what brought you to Florida. It’s a long way from New York.” 

“Oh, the heat,” she said. “I was so tired of the north-east cold.”

“And you know Raul…”

“He and one of my mentors are great friends, and he got us in touch. I have some family down here, and wanted to live somewhere warm for a change. Raul wanted to expand into some womenswear, and tailoring happens to be one of my specialties.” She said it without much emotion. Just stating the facts. “We met, I made him and myself a suit to audition, and here we are.” 

Matthew opened his mouth to say something about how he was glad she was here, but she walked away before he could force the words out. 

Josh gave him a look that said something like, women, right? 

Matthew walked away before he said something stupid.

“While I update the rest of your measurements, Jessica can help you with fabrics. She’s excellent with color. Jessica, why don’t you get the samples and help them pick out what they need.” 

She nodded, went into the back and came out with five big binders. She set them on the table, and flipped some of them open. 

She helped Reino pick out a dark teal, a blue and a few subtle plaids before moving on to someone else. 

Matthew was the last at the table. 

“What are you looking for?” she asked, trying to keep her voice and demeanor level. No need to let him know how her heart still pounded just looking at him when it was so obvious he didn’t care about her. 

“I'm always looking for something interesting,” he said. “What would you suggest?” 

Her eyes darted up to his face. His eyes were so blue - much more intense in person. He had the kind of eyes poets say hold summer skies and glacial lakes. It was the first time she really saw them, and they took her breath away. 

“Well,” she forced herself back to work, “you could pull off almost anything with your coloring. How adventurous are you?” 

“I’m willing to try anything once,” he said, trying to sound flirtatious. It just came off desperate. 

She chewed on the inside of her lip. “How many suits are you looking for?” 

“Eight,” he said. 

He didn’t need eight suits. But if it kept him at this table for longer, he would buy as many as she would sell him. 

“All for here?” 

“For here?”

“To be worn here, in Florida? The others have mentioned needing some for travel.”

“Oh, I’ll need three or four for travel, three at least for the cold.” 

They talked through colors. She opened a binder she hadn’t given anyone else. None of the other guys were as handsome, or seemed as adventurous with their style as Matthew. 

“If you’re brave enough, I think this lilac would look really good on you,” she said, pulling the pastel fabric sample off the board and holding it up. He was more bronze than he had been when they’d met, but it would still look good when his summer tan faded. 

“Okay,” he said. He trusted her style. He’d never worn lilac, but if she thought it would look good, he’d give it a shot.

Jessie got the feeling he was just agreeing with her to get this whole thing over with. Still, she couldn’t help pulling the best fabrics for him, even an expensive light blue linen blend that would make him look like Brad Pitt in Santorini. He didn't balk when she mentioned the price. He didn't even seem to notice. 

“Chucky, how did you know Jessie?” Bennet said as they walked down the block to the public parking they’d all met at. 

“A party,” he said, trying to sound non-committal. 

People got into their cars, but before Matthew could leave, Benny came up to his driver's window. “You wanna tell us what’s going on?” 

“You’re never this quiet,” Reino said from his place on Benny’s left. 

Matthew sighed and got out of the car. This was going to take a while. Sam had always been a bit of a brother to him and he knew he wouldn’t let him go without an explanation. 

“Jessie and I met last New Years Eve,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the hood of his car. 

“Okay, and what did you do? Hookup and never call her again?” 

“No!” He sounded too defensive, even to his own ears. 

Reino raised an eyebrow, “so what happened?” 

His hands raked into his hair so he didn't have to look at them as he told the story. “We met at this club in Ottawa, and we had this amazing connection. I've never felt anything like it before. Like, boom: Instant chemistry.” It felt even worse to say it out loud. 

Both guys just waited. 

“But the club caught fire.” 

“Wait, what?” Benny asked. “Really?”

“I know, man,” Matthew said, throwing his hands up, “and I thought I had her number, so I left her to find Taryn, but I didn’t, and I couldn't find her after. I didn’t think I was ever going to see her again, and then, all of a sudden she was here,” he gestured in the direction of the shop, “and I just…” 

“Fucked it?” Benny asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“So go back and talk to her,” Reino said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. 

He scoffed. “What would I say? ‘Hey, sorry I completely forgot your name and treated you like our connection didn't matter, but I actually haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past nine months?’” 

“Better than not saying anything,” Benny said. 

Matthew shook his head, “I can’t go back in there.” 

“Why not?” 

“You didn’t see her face. There’s no way she wants to talk to me.” 

A few weeks later, Jessie was piecing Matthew’s jacket from the blue linen in the back of the shop. The fabric was so light and delicate, she couldn’t even have music going while working with it. One wrong move and there would be pulled threads all over the place. She knew Raul would disapprove, but she gave herself twice the seam allowance to make sure she could finish the inside raw edges. Otherwise the fabric would start to pull apart - eventually, quite literally, fraying at the seams. 

“Uh, hello?” someone asked. 

She jumped and dropped the scissors. She let them clatter to the floor with a curse. She’d been so focused on the task at hand, she hadn’t heard the bell ring. 

“One second,” she called, before securing her pattern with an extra pin, picking up the scissors and coming out to the sales floor. 

“Hi, sorry about that. I got kind of in the zone. What can I do for you?” 

It was one of the hockey guys. The one with strawberry hair. She couldn’t help but glance around him to see if he’d brought anyone with him. 

She shouldn’t even be looking for Matthew, especially considering he'd ignored all of her phone calls about his suiting. All the same, seeing him again had awoken her longing in a way she couldn’t quite tamp down. 

“Raul said I had some suits he wanted me to try on,” he said. 

She asked his name, then went to the back to retrieve the garment bag. She remembered this one. She’d convinced him an oxblood red wouldn’t look too harsh with his coloring, and she was hoping he would like the results. 

Giving him a pair of pants, she left him in the changing room while she cut extra threads on the inside of the jacket.

Immediately, she could see the pants were a smidge too loose. They talked about his preferred fit, and he avoided looking at her as she pinned the inner thigh. All men reacted this way, but to Jessie, this was all about the garment. As far as she was concerned, he was a mannequin under these clothes. 

Finally, the questions that had been ruminating in her mind got the best of her. “So, did Matthew get traded or something?” 

“Chucky?” he asked, surprised.  

“I guess so.” 

“No,” he was laughing as he said it, “he has seven more years on his contract.”

“Oh.” 

“Why?” 

“I’ve just called him a few times about measurements, or fittings, and he’s never called back or come in.”

“Really? He told me he was here yesterday.” 

Of course he was coming in on her day off. Why had she even told him that in the message?

She stood up, and moved onto the jacket after asking him if he ever planned to wear it with a sweater. He wasn’t sure. Or if she should shorten the sleeves. He liked them a little longer. 

“Chucky told us what happened in Ottawa,” he said. 

Jessie felt her shoulders tense, but kept working. “Yeah?” she asked, not daring to look up. All this still felt too close to the surface, and she didn’t want this man she barely knew to know how much it had hurt when Matthew brushed her aside. 

“Yeah, he said he looked for you after the fire.” 

“I tried to stay, but my cousins and I were soaking wet and it was below freezing so we had to catch the train.” 

“He said he went back the next day and you’d been there, but didn’t leave a note.” 

That made Jessie gasp. Audibly. She blushed and tried to brush it off, “I was worried it might go to the wrong person,” she said, “plus I messaged him on Instagram and he never responded.” 

He hummed, debating the best way to approach this. He wanted to do some digging without letting on that’s what he was doing. “He said you guys had quite the connection.” 

Was she really going to go into this with one of his teammates? She hadn’t talked to anyone about it but Roger. Words bubbled up into her mouth so fast, she guessed she was. 

“Yeah, we did.” God, why did she have to sound so moony?

“Do you think there’s still something there?” 

“He made it pretty obvious there’s not.” 

“I don’t think he meant to do that. He was pretty shocked to see you.”

“I was shocked to see him too, but I didn’t just brush him aside.” 

“Listen, Jessie - it’s Jessie, right?”

She nodded.

“Matthew can be pretty thick. He gets so in his head, sometimes he doesn’t really think things through, but he told us what happened, and how much he liked you, and he said he fucked it and you wouldn’t want to see him again.”

She hummed, and got him a new suit to try on. She’d been right. The oxblood did look killer on him, like he could be in a GQ shoot. He looked impressed. 

“Would you want to see him again?” Sam asked. 

“If he came in here himself?”

He nodded. 

“I’d at least give him a chance.” 

Even though she would usually just move on, she’d never felt anything like the instant connection she and Matthew shared on New Years. It was the kind of thing she thought only existed in books and rom coms. Experiencing it in real life made it into something she couldn’t just walk away from.  

They talked about where they were from and made comfortable small talk for the duration of the fitting. She told him how relieved she was when Raul trusted her enough to run the shop by herself one day a week. 

“Listen, I’ll tell Chucky to come by next Wednesday. We’re leaving for the opening roadie that day, but I’ll try to get his head out of his ass before then.” 

She giggled. 

He could see why Matthew liked her, and could see how their personalities would match up well. She was kind and easy to talk to - quiet at first, but got louder as she got comfortable, and Chucky was just loud all the time. He could tell they both valued relationships more than things. 

The next week, after their final practice before the season opening road trip, Benny cornered Matthew in his stall. “You need to go see Jessie.”

“She doesn't want to talk to me, man.”

“The way she asked me about you last week would say otherwise.”

He scoffed. 

“I told her you still like her -”

“You what?!”

“She brought you up first, and you weren't doing shit, so don’t tell me I'm ruining your plans or some bull. She said she's called you a bunch of times, but you only show up when she's not there.”

“It's just easier,” Matthew mumbled. It wasn't his fault she told him when she'd be gone.

Benny rolled his eyes. “Dude, wake up. She still likes you.” 

Matthew looked at him, skeptical, “she told you that?” 

“Yes, but she didn’t need to. The first thing she asked me was if you’d been traded. We weren’t even talking about you.”

 A ridiculous amount of hope lit up his face.

“I knew it! You still like her too!”

What’s not to like? Matthew thought.

“She runs the shop on Wednesdays. Just go talk to her.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I went there last Wednesday, dumbass. She told me.” 

Matthew hesitated, still unconvinced. 

“Go. Now. I’ll drive you myself if I have to. I’m sick and tired of you moping around when there’s such an easy solution to your problem.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going,” Matthew said, holding his hands up in defeat. 

“And check your instagram. She said she sent you a message.” 

Usually when she walked onto the sales floor after the doorbell dinged, Jessie would have to search for someone among the racks of fabric samples and ready to be tailored suits. This time, a man was standing at the counter, watching her with the same determined intensity he’d shown the first time they met.

He was here. Finally. Four of his suits had been sitting in the storage room for more than a week, further proof that he was avoiding her. 

“Hi Matthew,” she greeted hesitantly. 

“Hey Jessie.”

They looked at each other in awkward silence for a moment. 

“Can I help you with something?” 

“Yeah, Raul told me some of the suits were ready?”

“They are.”

“I just came to pick those up.” 

“Oh,” the tiny spark of hope fizzled out again. Sam must not have made it through to him. 

She looked instantly downcast. 

To hell with it. He couldn't make any more of an ass of himself. “And I wanted to see you,” he blurted.

“You wanted to see…me?” she repeated, pulling a pen from her ponytail to start fiddling with it. He didn’t know why, but it struck him as such an endearing gesture. 

“Yeah,” he said, heart falling. Was Sam setting him up? He was a prankster, but not to this level, usually. Not when it was this important. 

“Why would you want to see me?” she asked, feeling that guard go up. Every time she got her hopes up about Matthew, he tore them down.

Thoughts raced through his mind. He could lie so easily, but where would that get him? It was time to just own up and blurt it out. Her reaction be damned. “Because I really like you.”

She looked surprised. Way more surprised than he’d expected. “I thought you didn’t remember.”

“How could I forget?” he asked. “I thought you must hate me since I forgot your name and acted like such an ass that first day.”

Shaking her head, Jessie wondered how on earth they got into this situation. “I mean, I was disappointed, but then, you backed it up by never coming to the shop when I was working, I thought you must be trying to avoid me.”

“I was.”

One of her eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that,” he floundered. “Like, I couldn’t stand to see you and remember how well we got on, and how much I like you, and how pretty you are when I knew I'd blown my chance and you hated me.”

She let out a laugh. “That makes no sense. What did I ever do to make you think I hated you? I called you every time something was finished, or we needed a new measurement. I gave you the best fabric selections.”

Had that been because she liked him? “I don’t know, it did in my brain. I guess I was so embarrassed I forgot your name when I like you so much, I was telling myself you must be angry with me.”

Jessie rolled her eyes. “You know, Matthew, for someone so smart, you can be pretty dumb.” 

“You think I’m smart?” He’d been called many things in his life, but smart was rarely one of them. 

“Yes. I think you’re very smart, except when it comes to romance, I guess.” 

He chuffed a laugh, grabbing the back of his neck. “I really fucked this one up, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t know,” she said, trying to be cool and hoping against hope that this last shot would land on target. If it didn’t, she was kicking him out and scrubbing him from all her memories. “I think you might still have a chance.” 

His eyes snapped to hers. “Yeah?” 

She nodded. 

Heart pounding, but trying to keep that flirty, cool skin on, he walked around the counter to remove the barrier between them. 

Knowing he still liked her brought all those feelings from the club rushing back. She’d never felt like that with anyone else. If only he knew how many times she’d replayed that night. How many times she remembered how he felt and how no one had ever kissed her like that, or swept her off her feet so quickly.

“Play your cards right,” she said, feeling breathless with the nearness of him. “And I think you might get another chance at bat.”

As he leaned in closer, her pupils dilated, and her eyes darted to his mouth. He licked his lips just to see her force her eyes back to his like last time. Her blush was even more adorable in the daylight.

“If I swing, what are my odds of getting a home run?” 

She laughed. It didn’t break the spell. It turned out that palpable chemistry was still between them, just waiting to be ignited. Their eye contact was hot and glued together.

“Maybe not today,” she said, “but I think it’s a safe bet that you’ll get on base.” 

Time moved in slow motion as he leaned in further, looking at her mouth, then her neck, then her cleavage, barely visible through the two undone buttons of her starched, white shirt, before snapping back to hers as she stopped him with a hand pressed tightly to his chest.  

“We can’t do this here. There are cameras on the floor,” she said. 

His head dropped forward in defeat. “I have to leave for Vegas in two hours,” he said, feeling more than a bit desperate. “I really don’t want to wait until I’m back.” 

“I don’t want to either, but I’m telling you, if Raul catches me making out with a client, I’m going to be out on my ass.” 

“So what do we do?”

She thought for a moment before an idea struck her. “Follow me.” 

She made a big show of walking into the back, digging his new lilac suit out of the garment bag and hanging it in the private dressing room. “You go in there. When I come back and ask you how it’s fitting, you need to tell me something needs to be adjusted and invite me in, okay?” 

“Right. Yeah, okay.” 

She put out the sign that said she would return soon and locked the front door. It wasn’t that unusual to lock up when they were helping a high profile client, anyway. Plus, Wednesdays were always the slowest day of the week, hence why she was allowed to man the shop alone. She just hoped Raul wouldn’t have any reason to review the tapes. 

Her whole chest felt like it was full of helium as she walked back to him. Were they really about to do this? 

“Everything going okay in there?” she asked. 

“Something’s wrong with this suit jacket,” he said. “Can you come take a look?” 

Upon entering, she found Matthew with his shirt already off.

Sweet Jesus, she was not prepared for that. For his sculpted body, and his chest hair, that tapered into a thin trail running down the center of his abs before it dipped enticingly into the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s not fair,” she said. 

“What’s not fair?” he reached for her and drew her to him, hands splaying over her waist.

“You’re already half naked,” she said, eyes wandering down his chest again. 

“You could be too,” he teased, playfully pulling at the shirt tucked into her waistband. He didn’t actually pull any of the fabric loose, which she appreciated. He was letting her set the pace.

“Damn, Jessie. You’re the only woman I know who can make a pant suit look sexy.” 

She laughed, and pulled the whole shirt over her head, leaving her in a white camisole, a black lace bra peeking out from underneath it. 

“Do you always wear black lingerie to work?” he asked, voice gone husky as he ran a finger under one of the straps. 

“Only when I think you might come in.” 

His eyes snapped to hers, thrilled but questioning. 

“Sam told me he was going to try to get you to come by today.”

“So this really is for me?” he felt dizzy with the prospect.

“No. It’s for me. I put it on this morning, thinking that at the very least if you came in and you were an ass again, you wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing how hot I look in my bra,” she said, before stripping off the camisole so he could see exactly how hot she looked in her bra. 

Seeing her, in black suit pants, a gold belt buckle flashing at her waist, and her sheer, floral lace bra that plunged between her breasts, the breath was sucked out of his lungs. 

His ongoing ache for her intensified, pressing insistently against the confines of his jeans. 

He stepped toward her when she once again stopped his progress with a hand to the chest. “I really like you, Matthew,” she said, swooning a little at the happiness that lit up his face, “but I was serious. I don't want to have sex.” 

“Can you define that a little more?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like you don't want oral sex, or…” 

She wouldn't have guessed oral sex would even be on the table. She practically had to beg past boyfriends for it. 

“I mean I don't want to have penetrative sex. The first time with someone new is hard enough. I don't want to make it more complicated by taking a bed out of the equation.” 

“I get that. Plus, it'll give me something to look forward to when I get back,” he said with a grin and a cheeky wink. 

God, maybe they really were made for each other. 

As his left hand slipped to the back of her neck, the other spread over her rib cage, thumb brushing against the soft lace that cupped her breast. 

She sucked in a breath, letting her hand ghost up his torso over the ridges and valleys, until her fingers hooked over his shoulder. The other slid around to his back.

It felt like it had been a million years since they’d last done this. Not the touching, not the skin to skin, which felt like…it felt like heaven, but the longing. 

Jessie was looking at him with that same hope and lust in her eyes. It made his stomach twist with that same wanting to fulfill them both. 

It was so long coming, he wanted to savor every movement, every breath, every glance. Her eyes were so green. Somehow even more green up close. 

Finally, when their lips met, she sighed, melting against him. 

This was all together more intense and less hurried than their first kiss had been. It was a slow burn, a thorough seduction, a fulfillment of everything Matthew had been dreaming of that night they lost each other. 

When he pulled away, their heavy breaths crashed together. 

Fingertips sliding up her back, he tried to memorize the feel of her. Her skin was so soft. 

Jessie was growing impatient. Any other moment, she would love this slow seduction. Most of the time she felt like men moved too fast. Today though, she had so much sexual frustration built up for him that the weight of desire was already heavy between her legs. 

Taking matters into her own hands, she leaned in and trailed her mouth along his jaw before nipping the soft spot behind it, just under his ear. He shuddered when she soothed it with her tongue. 

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” she confessed, barely above a whisper.

That snapped him into action. Taking her waist, he pulled her flush to him, and crushed his mouth to hers. 

There was the passion she’d been looking for. 

As they surged together, she felt so restless and turned on, she tried to hook a knee over his hip in an attempt to slot him between her legs. 

Groaning against her, his hand slid over her rear and down her leg to keep it elevated and wrapped around him. 

Kissing her was so much better than he remembered. How was that possible? She was so good in his dreams. In reality, she was living - flesh and bone and wanting - and he couldn’t get enough. 

Moving to her neck, he sucked her pulse point. He felt her tremble against him, but her hand still came up to pull him back to her mouth. “Nothing visible, okay? I have to go back to work.” 

He nodded and caught her lips. It might be too late for that one, but he wouldn’t do it again. 

Her desire was a wildfire, consuming every part of her. It wanted to consume him, too. 

When she tucked two of her fingers behind the button of his jeans, a moan fell into her mouth. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” 

She tore the zipper down, and palmed him through his boxers. His hips jumped into her hand as a moan ripped from his throat.

His fingers fumbled to her belt buckle and paused. 

“Please,” she whimpered. 

He was clumsy with desperation and the distraction of her kissing and biting his neck, but he finally got it open and her pants undone. 

The weight of the buckle sunk the waistband to the floor with a heavy clink, and Jessie stepped out of it, kicking off her shoes at the same time. Sinking her hand into his pants, she shoved them down his muscular legs. 

He nearly fell over in his attempt to get out of his shoes so he could free himself from the shackle of the fabric around his ankles. 

Jessie giggled, and moved with him as he stepped away. He finally got his first look at her in her underwear. Made of some fabric he couldn’t name, they were also black and cut high on her hip. He could see it was a thong in the mirrored wall behind her. 

His jaw grew heavy with longing, but managed to make his mouth work enough to tell her, “you’re so beautiful, Jessie.”

“Thank you. I think you’re really handsome.” she said, running a hand down his chest. And he was - he could be a living sculpture in the Greek wing of the Louvre with his curly hair and sculpted body. 

Sliding his hands over her hips, he pulled her to him once more. He hesitated for a moment, and Jessie took charge, too impatient to wait. “Matthew?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I really appreciate you getting my consent, I really, really do, but you can just move forward. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something.” 

“Okay.” 

She captured his mouth again and the fire roared to life between them, stoked hotter by so much skin touching skin. 

Sneaking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, he pushed them down, trusting that she would stop him if she wanted to.

She didn’t want him to. 

His fingers traced back up her leg and when he stroked her, she broke from the kiss to let her head lull forward onto his shoulder. Her panting breaths were the stuff of his dreams. She was already so wet, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure. 

“Oh,” she moaned when he explored more, running a couple of rough fingers from her entrance to her throbbing bundle of nerves. She rocked into his hand, and he took the hint, caressing her over and over again until she was trembling and moaning. 

“Matthew,” her voice was wrecked: desperate and thick with longing. 

“What do you need?” 

“Your fingers,” she begged, “inside me.” 

He obeyed, following the rhythm she set. Pressing the pad of his thumb to her clit, a wicked, self satisfied smile took over his face as her head tipped back, and her breath hitched. 

He rutted against her thigh in an attempt to pacify some of his own lust. 

“Oh,” she moaned, “just like that.” Her hands slid to his arms, clinging to his biceps. 

He wanted to eat her pleasure for breakfast - sustain himself with it on long, lonely nights. He knew he would dream of her voice and all her little sounds through the whole ten days away, anxious to come back to the very actual reality of her. He kept having to remind himself this wasn’t a dream.

Body shaking, she cried out. 

Feeling her core pulse around him again and again, the release was so long coming, it seemed to go on forever.

Matthew continued to stroke and leaned in, kissing her right through her orgasm.

As her breathing finally slowed, he eased his fingers from her. 

“Oh my god,” she said, still clutching him to stay upright. “I’m so pissed we had to wait nine months for this.” 

Laughter barked out of his mouth.

When she could make her hands work, Jessie pulled his hard, hot length from his boxers, and stroked a few times. 

His mouth fell open, and he panted, “it’s bullshit, right?”

“Such bullshit,” she agreed, devouring the pleasure that washed over his face.

“Wait,” he said, grasping her wrist. “I want this to last.” 

“You already got me off,” she said. “What do you need to wait for?” 

“I'm not going until you've come at least twice. What's the point of women being able to have multiple orgasms if I can't give them to you?”

That was some flawed logic, but she allowed him to pull her hand away. She wasn’t going to say no.

“Can I taste you?” 

“If you want,” she said hesitantly, as if he might be pulling some kind of prank. She'd never had a man offer to go down on her first.

“I do want,” he said, guiding her to lean against the mirrored wall and sinking to his knees. “I've been wondering how you taste since we met.”

Maybe that oral fixation all the girls talked about online was actually true.

“Can you put your leg up here?” he asked, sliding a gentle hand to the back of her knee, and lifting so the joint bent around his palm. He guided her foot to the stool. 

When he looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with excitement, she retraced their steps to get there. Not even ten minutes before would she have expected to end up with Matthew Tkachuk eating her out in the back dressing room. 

“That feels okay?” he confirmed, palm stroking back up her thigh.

God, he was even making sure she was comfortable. Her whole body fluttered in anticipation. “Yeah,” she breathed. 

Every other time a man had given her oral, they were fast and sloppy, obviously trying to get it over with as soon as possible. With Matthew, he seemed to be dragging it out for his own pleasure, tasting and teasing like he just couldn’t get enough. He was driving her crazy - winding her tighter and tighter. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. It was better than any of his dreams. Better than any fantasy. “More. Please. More.” 

She felt his lips briefly curve into a smile against her before he really got to work. Licking with the whole flat of his tongue, then flicking with the tip, he was suddenly everywhere. 

Her hand scrambled for purchase on the wall behind her. Met only with the slick mirror, her fingers fumbled into his hair, searching for anything to hold on to. 

He groaned into her, almost as if in pain.

“O-okay?” she asked, voice shaking as she attempted to loosen her grip.

When she felt his response but couldn't hear it, it took all her willpower to push him away. She was not going to hurt him, especially when he had been so insistent on her consent. She could feel his hard breathing rushing over her and it set her skin to trembling. 

“Okay?” she asked again. 

“Good,” he assured, eyes flicking up to meet hers. “I'll let you know if you pull too hard,” he said with a wink before diving back in. 

Her head thunked back against the mirror. He really was made for her, that was the only explanation. 

 God, she was perfect. She tasted like paradise, like water in the desert, like his favorite meal after a long period of fasting. She satiated his every craving. 

Pleasure began to tingle low in her pelvis. It loosened her hips and turned her legs to putty. She'd never had a man take this much interest, let alone put so much effort into her pleasure. She moaned something unintelligible, even to her own ears.

His competitive drive growled into a higher gear, demanding to please her until she whimpered and begged. He licked and sucked and spelled his own name with his tongue, gauging where she liked to be touched most. 

“Matthew,” she moaned. “Oh my god, Matthew.”

He slipped a finger into her, and she cried out. Her hand tightened in his hair when he added another. 

A whimper on every exhale, she panted, trying to keep some semblance of control. It shattered when he gently kneaded her g spot. 

Pleasure thundered low in her belly, and she was forced over the cliff, glad to know Matthew would be there to catch her fall. Her vision turned hazy as she crashed. Time and space exploded into nothing more than shadowy constructs. She heard herself shout as if listening from another room.

When she came back to herself, Matthew was still languidly tasting her folds, one of his forearms braced over her hips to keep her upright. 

Pushing him away from her core, she tried to catch her breath. 

As he sat back, he wiped his face with his free hand. The satisfaction of pleasing her rumbled contentedly in his chest. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I fucking love you.” 

He laughed, a look of delighted surprise on his face.

The reality of what she'd just said hit her and Jessie covered her face with her hands, “oh my god. I can't believe I just said that out loud.”

“That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me during sex.” 

Relief sunk into her bones. Soul mates. They had to be soul mates. 

A few moments later, she finally found her feet and pushed away from the mirror.

“Alright,” she said, reaching for him and wrapping her fingers around his erection. He stumbled toward her, anxious to feel more. 

She smoothed the precome leaking from the tip onto the shaft with her thumb. “I think it's my turn to taste now.” 

Matthew wasn't entirely sure what he'd expected her to do, but lowering to her knees in front of him right away hadn't been at the top of the list. He expected her to jerk him off for a minute, maybe kiss and tease him a little. Not that he was complaining. If she was willing, he'd gladly accept. 

“Do you like more suction or more mouth?” she asked before licking the underside of his shaft. 

Oh God.

“I dont - I don't care.” He wasn't sure he was even going to last long enough for it to make a difference. He felt so close to the surface already. 

“You don't care?” she repeated, sitting back on her haunches to look up at him. 

With her mouth off of him, he could explain his reasoning a little better. 

“Frankly, I've been dreaming about this for so long, I could almost bust just from seeing you on your knees.” 

She was flattered and also a little relieved she wasn't the only one. 

“Okay,” she said as she reached up to pump him a few times. “Something we'll figure out later.”

The fact that she was thinking about the future, too, made him weak. 

Her lips wrapped around his tip, tongue caressing, and he was right there. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Jessie,” he moaned, “god that feels good.”

Was it the best blow job ever? Objectively no, but it was Jessie, so it felt more important than any that came before it. He felt like he was fifteen again, getting his first head, amazed by everything and having no restraint. 

“I'm - I'm gonna come,” he moaned, trying to pull back so as not to come in her mouth. 

Jessie would rather have it in her mouth than all over her, so she gripped the backs of his thighs to keep him in place. 

“Oh, fuck.” How could she possibly be this perfect? 

She sucked and caressed and he exploded with a long low groan. 

She kept licking, albeit more gently, until he pulled back, sensitivity making it too much to bear.

“Holy shit,” he said. The room felt muggy and he felt content in a way he'd been longing for since they'd lost each other. 

“Yeah,” she agreed. 

He helped her to her feet, and pulled her against him, wanting to feel her close. 

A while later, her phone, which had fallen out of one of her pants pockets, buzzed and the time flashed. 

“Shit! I have to go,” he said, scrambling for his clothes. “I still have stuff to pack!” 

“When’s your flight?”

“In an hour, but I have to drive home and then to the airport.”

They rushed to get their clothes back on. He hated seeing her bra disappear under the camisole again. 

As soon as he was dressed, he grabbed her jaw and kissed her. Her hands floated from tucking her shirt to cup his face. 

He'd just had her, but the wanting roared back to life as soon as she touched him, as if his body was trying to remind him what was possible between them. Like he could ever forget. 

“This was so amazing. I promise I'll take you on a real date when I'm back, and I'll call you while I’m gone,” he said. “I'm sorry I have to dash out of here.”

He kissed her again, hard and purposefully, before rushing out of the dressing room. 

“Wait!” she chased him onto the sales floor still tucking her shirt, “my number. You need my number.” 

“Oh my god,” he slapped a palm to his forehead. “I can't believe I almost left without it again!”

She giggled, “you're not getting away from me this time.”

They exchanged numbers and Matthew raced home. 

He rushed to pack the last of his things, grateful for the example his dad set, in always having a base bag packed the day before a road trip just in case something came up. 

He was the last one on the plane, a first for him.

“Chucky just got fucked!” someone yelled. 

Matthew felt his cheeks get hot. His hair was probably wild from Jessie's hands, and he could feel the love bite on his neck, a sure sign it would soon be a full blown mark. 

Reino met his eyes and raised a brow. Jessie? he mouthed. 

Matthew nodded. 

He wiped the back of his hand over his brow in mock relief. 

“Oh thank God,” Bennett exclaimed from across the aisle. “I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room until you got together.”

Matthew laughed. 

When he got settled, he sent Jessie a text. Just on the plane, but I'm missing you already. I'm back on the 14th, so pencil me in for that date. 

I have you in for the weekend. We have a lot of time to make up for. 

Fanciction Masterlist

#the winter fic exchange 2k24 #matthew tkachuk fic #matthew tkachuk smut #matthew tkachuk fanfiction #matthew tkachuk one shot #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #nhl writing #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #hockey romance #hockey fic #hockey smut

[seat-safety-switch]

Storybooks like to tell these ridiculous fables of children who got abandoned in the jungle and were raised by wolves. That’s preposterous. Children raise themselves unless you keep a really good eye on them. Look, I was raised by human beings and I’m barely one step back from feral. Nurture is critically important for the development of kids, and that’s why I like to provide what the experts call a “high-enrichment environment” for the neighbourhood just-barely-fetuses.

Decades ago, kids got into way more trouble. Farmers had no convenient metal recycling and would leave sharp and rusty implements lying in their fields, ready for their progeny (and their progeny’s flunky friends) to play with. There was more stuff in general; now, a smartphone has replaced fully four-fifths of the cool old garbage that accidental garage fires used to be started with. Now, the long arm of the law gets really mad if there’s too much cool trash lying around. What are kids gonna play with? Sticks?

Enter me. Or to be more accurate, my pile of garbage that is slowly overflowing into the public domain. My fence broke again, you see, and since the landlord is probably being eaten by coconut crabs in whatever tropical country he didn’t come back from “vacation” in, I don’t expect it to get fixed any time soon. What this means for the neighbourhood children is that the alleys and sidewalks are full of cool old stuff. Entire payphones. Small two-stroke gasoline engines. I’m pretty sure I saw a wakizashi from the Ashikaga shogunate lying around the other day. You’re not gonna find that in your after-school CD-ROM, kids.

Will these children turn out to be tomorrow’s future engineers, inventors, and jobless, disaffected burnouts crudely constructing bastardized cars commemorating the sunset of American civilization? I sure hope so, and I’d like to take just a little bit of credit for doing so. If even one future Chrysler cooling-system engineer writes down on their memoirs that it was my fault they made a go-kart out of leftover marine batteries and a rewound Taurus alternator and maimed two of their friends, then I’ve done my part to further humanity.

[envysparkler]

Ted grinned as Grayson walked away, his shoulders hunched and his hands balled into fists.  He hadn’t bothered laying out the evidence or the proof—both were easy enough to find, connecting Grayson’s disappearances with Nightwing’s appearances was like playing a goddamn match-2 game.

And it was no wonder that Grayson had the highest close rate of the precinct when he could just go and get whatever evidence he wanted.  But Ted didn’t care about that.  Not anymore.

No, he didn’t care that Detective Richard Grayson was Nightwing.  He cared that Richard Grayson-Wayne was Nightwing.  Ted was about to become very rich—if Grayson did as he was told.

Ten million.  He would give Grayson two days to cough it up, or he’d go straight to Vicki Vale.  Or perhaps Arkham, he knew a couple of guards there and surely someone in those cells would pay handsome money to know who Nightwing was under the mask.

Hell, he could even do all three.  He held the cards here.

Ted smiled at Grayson’s pinched face.

Ted gave a parting smirk to Grayson as he left for his smoke break.  The man had begun ignoring him, as if that would make the deadline go away.  He had a little less than twenty hours.

Ted had gone ahead and got a visitor’s pass for Arkham for the day after tomorrow.  He’d worry about specifics after he knew whether or not Grayson would come through.

It was cold outside, late afternoon edging into evening.  He passed by a couple of other officers as he headed deeper into the alley.  He lit the cigarette and took the first puff dreaming about the island vacation he’d be taking.

First class.  Gourmet food.  Five star resort and margaritas on the beach.  Life was about to become much better.

A flicker of movement caught his eye and he turned, unhurried, as the garbage bag ruffled in the shadows, straightening.

Up.  And up.  And up.  Until it resolved itself into a slender figure dressed all in black and most definitely not a garbage bag.

Ted blinked.  The Bats usually only came out at night.  And that they rarely ever ventured into Bludhaven.

Oh, so Nightwing had decided to take a different option out of his little predicament.  It really was a shame—Ted might’ve even left him alone if he’d gotten the money.  Now?  Now it was fair game.  And everyone knew the Bats didn’t kill.

Ted turned away from the figure and back towards the front of the alley—he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw a figure dressed in black and purple, dangling their legs off the fire escape, grinning down at him.

He picked up his pace a little bit—he’d get back to the precinct and make it very clear to Grayson that his mind games weren’t going to work.  The money, or the Joker was going to know exactly where to strike.

Someone stepped in front of the alley, blocking the entrance and Ted slowed his steps before coming to a stop.

Red helmet.  Red bat.  They didn’t know a whole lot about Gotham’s vigilantes, but the Red Hood was a sore topic for every gang in the city.

Ted slowly, quietly, moved his hand to his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” a voice said behind him, almost breathing on his ear, and Ted shrieked, drawing the gun and twisting around.

He was disarmed before he even knew what was happening, the gun yanked out of his fingers as he was shoved back, hard, sent stumbling back into the dumpster.  Above him, the girl in the black-and-purple suit giggled.

“Hood gets a bit testy about guns.”  A tall figure in black-and-red, removing the clip, the bullet and tossing each piece in a different direction.

“I don’t get testy,” the Hood rasped, low and rough, “If someone points a gun at me, it’s only fair that I get to point a gun right back.”

“We’re trying to get him to stop using guns so much,” the girl said, sotto voce.

Ted turned back to the mouth of the alleyway.  The Red Hood had a tire iron slung over one shoulder.

“What—what do you want?  My wallet?  My phone?  I—I didn’t do anything,” he raised his hands.  He would’ve backed away, but the figure in black was giving him the hives and he didn’t want to get any closer to them than necessary.

“Tt.  We all know that’s a lie.”

Ted literally did not see where Robin had come from.  He’d been staring as the Hood took slow steps forward, he’d blinked, and then suddenly there was a kid in green-and-yellow scowling in front of him.

A kid with a sword.

Ted immediately cast a glance skywards, because where Robin was Batman wasn’t far behind, before the strangeness of the situation settled into him.  He was being menaced by a bunch of idiots in masks, in an alley in broad daylight.

“Look, I don’t know what you want but I’m a cop, you can’t just—”

“You know exactly what we want,” the girl said, swinging her feet.  The all-black one took a single, menacing step forward.

“You messed with the wrong fucking Bat, asshole.”  Hood tilted his helmet to one side.

“If you even dare to touch him—” the katana flashed.  “I will remove your hands.”

“Look, Officer Devins,” the one in black-and-red said, “We’re willing to be reasonable.  Leave Dick Grayson alone, and nobody has to get hurt.”

Ted was itching to shoot one of them—now he understood why his friends in Gotham were so fed up with their vigilante problem.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied baldly, “I didn’t do anything to Grayson.  Can I go now?”

#my snippets #outsider pov #someone tries to blackmail nightwing #pity he doesn't know about nightwing's host of protective baby siblings

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

Had to evacuate my building tonight due to a fire alarm and it made me appreciate that my snakes travel container had a handle. I was alone so handled both the dog and the snake, the handle made things so much easier. (Turns out some dork was smoking in the laundry room)

Everyone is fine but I wanted to ask, have you ever had to evacuate with your snakes? Either way are there any tips you’d give new snake owners for how to evacuate safely?

I've had to evacuate with my snakes a few times when I lived in garbage apartments with hair-trigger fire alarms, and thankfully I got it down to something of a science! Here's what I always recommend.

I keep large plastic bins, the kinds with locking lids. I actually prefer ones with wheels for this just in case because they're easier to move around with, but the locking lid is the only must-have.

And that bin is your designated emergency tub. Inside, keep these things:

Travel bins for all your snakes. They do not have to be big, just make sure they have latching lids. Little bit of substrate in there, one small hide, and a small water bowl. Write their names on the lids so you can avoid any confusion if you have to evacuate fast.

Another small bin with a snake first-aid kit, just in case your snake is hurt and you can't get them to the vet right away. Antiseptic, reptile shedding aid spray, gauze bandages, medical tape.

Extra heat mats - in a pinch, you can prop them up along the sides of your travel bins. You probably won't have room for thermostats in your emergency kits, but heat mats on the sides of bins are safe in a pinch.

If you have to get out fast and you don't have time to put all the snakes in their own bins, you can just put them in the main tub and sort them out once you're all safe - that's why the locking lid is a must-have! The only snakes that won't work for are ophiophagus (snake-eating) ones like kingsnakes - with them, the extra time is needed to get them in their individual bins if you can take it.

Emergency bins like this are things I hope no one reading this will ever need, but being prepared will help evacuations go much more smoothly.

#not a rating #snake emergencies

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

aita for playing my music/turning up my tv insanely loud in response to my neighbors?

this may be a bit venty. i'm sorry. i've been dealing with this for 5 years

i (23) live in a 3-tiered apartment complex where i'm in the middle, with an upstairs and downstairs neighbour. they both suck for different reasons, but this is mostly focused on my upstairs neighbour, who is a (hobbyist) dj. he's from the caribbean (which is a reason i don't want to get the landlord involved who is very racist), constantly plays deafeningly loud music with thumping beats that he shouts over into a mic. this is a near daily thing where i usually have to end up banging on the ceiling or yelling at him through it to turn it down because it shakes my entire apartment and scares my cats. i've tried talking to both him and his girlfriend multiple times over the five years i've lived here and neither of them care enough to stop. they also have monthly parties where they cram 15 people into their apartment and he djs the entire time until 1 am. these people are in their 30's or 40's btw, way too old to act like this. i'd move but this is the only affordable apartment for me in town, it's walking distance to my work, and it's crazy cheap for what it is, about $500 usd for a full 2 bedroom apartment, so despite being miserable here i can't afford to go anywhere else. at this point whenever he starts blaring music (which starts sometimes as early as 8 am as soon as his gf leaves for work) i turn on my own music so loud it hurts my ears (making sure my cats aren't in the room ofc) and he usually gets the idea after a bit and turns his down. i also play my music very loudly even if he hasn't been noisy that day, just because i feel like it and he's done it enough that i'm just generally pissed about it all the time. admittedly i also do this to bother my downstairs neighbour too who is a 60-something year old asshole who constantly berates me over tiny things, threatens to call the cops on me for many reasons including my cats keeping him awake, running my dishwasher too early in the morning, and parking in my driveway too close to his window. also, once my upstairs neighbour put burning coals from his fireplace into a plastic garbage bin and put it right next to the WOODEN stairs to his balcony and nearly caught the complex on fire. when i noticed this and went out to the stairway to yell that there was a fire in the garbage bin my downstairs neighbour came out and got mad at me for yelling and waking him up over a fucking fire, if you want to know how unreasonable both these assholes are. my downstairs neighbour also smokes indoors, making the entire complex and outside smell like cig smoke and weed which makes me sick bc i have bad lungs. my room is right above his as well so it sometimes seeps in through the vents forcing me to sleep in the living room. i've also tried talking to him multiple times and he doesn't give a shit and he's friends with the landlord so he never gets in trouble for any of this. he is also super racist and has called my upstairs neighbour the n word

both of my neighbors hate me so i don't care if anything i do bothers them i just wanna know if the music in response to my neighbours being shitty is an asshole move lol

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Hey, Lance.” A taunting laugh, smirk audible in his voice. “I got your lion back.”

He’s so smug he’s dripping with it, truly. If satisfaction was a person he would be the one and only Keith Gyeong, prodigy pilot extraordinaire.

He did, however, go out of his way to get Lance’s lion back for him. So.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance says, injecting as much sincerity into his voice as he can muster. He’s well aware he’s still at a disadvantage here, and he knows Keith is his best shot for help (he would literally rather die than ask Shiro, Pidge would take twelve thousand photos and hoard them over his head for eternity, Hunk has a told-you-so problem, and he doesn’t know the Alteans well enough to take that particular L in front of them). “Now can you come and unchain me?”

Lance is expecting teasing. Duh. That’s the point of this whole rivalry spiel. He is not, however, expecting to be abandoned.

“What’s that? Uh, you’re cutting out, I can’t — I can’t hear you —”

Oh, Lance is going to kill him.

“Come on! I thought we bonded!”

Nothing. Not even static over the comms, which tells Lance that Keith has yet to fucking cut the connection, and is, in fact, being a horrible smug jerk.

A horrible smug jerk that is Lance’s only saving grace, unfortunately.

Man, fuck. Why is Lance expected to be friends with this jerk again?

“Keith?”

Still nothing.

“Buddy?”

Fuck, not even a muffled snigger.

“…My man?”

Is it desperate? Yes. Was the bonding dig also desperate? Yep. Is Lance digging himself into a deeper hole by the minute? Quite probably.

He does that regularly, though. He’ll get out eventually.

Hopefully.

Lance continues to nag a silent Keith through the comms, and then switches to cussing him out, in as many languages as he can (which is a lot. He doubts Keith has ever been called a fart-snorting garbage-guzzler in Gaelic, heh. Ass). He’s hoping to incense Keith enough to get him to fire back and prove that he’s been listening all along, but not too much that he turns around and refuses to help. It’s a delicate balance. Lance is usually very good at it. (Nothing on Earth is funnier than making your older siblings absolutely raging mad and then watching them continue to help you with whatever you ask for. It is, truly, an art form.)

But since Lance was forsaken by the gods the very second he was shot into space, Keith remains absolutely soundless.

And honestly? How dare he.

Muttering to himself, Lance tries to shift into a slightly more comfortable position. Eventually he manages to get his knees under him, chest to the floor, and curves his back to take the pressure off his wrists, which isn’t amazing but is better than before. It’s certainly not easy to do — this handcuff shit is hard. Lance always thought it would be way more fun.

“Well, damn, Sanchez. You sure you even want me to help you? You’re lookin’ pretty comfortable all stretched out.”

Lance yelps loudly, startling at Keith’s drawl. When the hell did he get here? Why didn’t Lance see him arrive in Red?

“Did you seriously use Pidge’s cloaking just to sneak up on me?” he demands.

Keith steps into Lance’s field of vision, smirking up a goddamn storm. He crouches right beside the pole Lance is chained to, reaching out a hand (dodging Lance’s attempt to bite his fingers off) and tilting up his chin.

“‘Course,” he admits, easy as pie. Then his smirk gets wider. “Think I was gonna pass up a chance to see ya all tied up and testy, pretty boy?”

Pretty boy.

Oh, no. Oh no, no, no.

“Fuck,” Lance says, aghast. “Fuck, fuck!”

The sudden expletives startles Keith, a little, and the smug expression drops from his face.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Lance face contorts in panic. “You’re hot! You’re not supposed to be hot! Fuck!”

This is Lance’s own goddamn fault, really, but he would like to take a brief moment to blame both higher powers and the internet at large for making him this way.

The thing is that Lance likes to bug people. He likes to push people’s buttons and run off before they can push his back. Usually, anyway, people don’t want to push his back; they just want to throw shit at him or roll their eyes and walk away.

But Keith?

Of course not. Heaven forbid Keith act like every other human being on the planet — er, well, alien in the universe. No, Keith has absolutely no trouble snapping right back to whatever Lance throws at him. Keith actually plays his game.

And fuck, does Lance love it.

That’s a huge problem. Massive. Lance doesn’t know what to do with someone who indulges him! That’s not the point! The point is for people to get annoyed and for Lance to win by default! He’s not supposed to be the one getting flustered!

“…What,” Keith says flatly. He blinks rapidly at Lance, confusion written all over his face.

There’s a splash of red spreading across his nose.

“Oh, fuck you!” Lance explodes — or, well, as much as he can while he’s still chained to a fucking pole. “Of course you have to be a fuckin’ — smug jackass! And of course you look good doing it! And of fucking course you’re a goddamn country boy!”

And the hole Lance has dug himself gets deeper.

Lance astounds himself, really. He should arrange to have his mouth glued shut.

“This is the worst! It’s one thing if you’re just some guy, but nooooo! Of course you have fucking — crooked incisors and a Southern drawl! Oh, you are the worst, you know that, Gyeong?”

“This is going in a rapidly different direction than I pictured,” Keith manages.

“Oh, picture me tied up and at your mercy a lot, do you?” Lance snaps back.

It’s a reflex, really. Lance says shit like that all the time, because he’s his own target audience. It never does anything but make people roll their eyes at him, and occasionally land him in detention. Hell, he barely even registered that he said it.

But, fascinatingly, the tiny smudge of red over Keith’s nose explodes into a raging blush, from the roots of his hair down his neck.

“There’s no possible way you know that,” Keith says hotly.

Lance’s jaw drops. “No way that I — I didn’t! I wasn’t — bitch, I was joking!”

Keith scowls, flush getting deeper. “Well, what about the shit you said before? You said I’m hot!”

“Yeah, because you fucking are! I’m not — I don’t daydream about you, at least! I don’t have a — a fucking thing for you, though?”

As he says it, Lance knows he’s lying. All of a sudden every single one of Hunk’s raised eyebrows whenever Lance ranted about Keith start to make a lot of sense.

“Bullshit!” Keith argues. “You always stare at me during training, and you pick random fights with me all the time, and yet you sit next to me all the time for no reason! You’re fuckin’ obsessed with me!”

“I —” Lance stops, jaw clicking shut. It is occurring to him, just now, that straight, non-crush-having people don’t generally obsess over one-sided rivalries for five years, and then do everything they can to make that rivalry a reality.

So. An oversight, perhaps.

“There’s a possibility,” Lance concedes, “that my subconscious, without my permission, has perhaps harboured some strange type of feelings for you.”

“Told you,” Keith says faintly. He looks just as lost as Lance does, though, so it significantly lowers the effect.

Lance is gagged. He is, for once in his life, at a complete loss for what to say. What does this even — who comes up with this kind of shit? Who does this? Lance is his own worst enemy, truly. Sorry, Zarkon, but take a seat.

“Lance, dude?” Hunk’s voice, faint and tinny from Lance’s discarded helmet, makes them both jump. “Do you still need rescuing?”

“Fuck, sorry,” Keith mutters, finally springing into action and deactivating the stupid cuffs. Lance scrambles back the second he’s free, rubbing his wrists and avoiding eye contact with Keith while also constantly sneaking glances aren’t him that aren’t at all sneaky because Keith catches him every time.

“So,” Keith says eventually.

Nope. Lance isn’t having this stupid conversation.

Lance throws a random rock at him.

“Hey!” Keith picks it back up and whips it at Lance immediately, only his aim isn’t as good as Lance’s, and also Lance is already diving to grab more rocks, so he misses. Lance starts pelting Keith with the armful of space rocks he’s gathered, each of them no bigger than an ice cube, all of them pinging harmlessly off Keith’s armour.

“Lance — will you — fucking cut that out!”

He lunges forward, shoving Lance to the ground and pinning Lance’s hands above his head. Lance bucks and squirms, trying several of the new maneuvers Shiro taught them to throw Keith off, but unfortunately Keith had also been present at the training in which they learned these manoeuvres and is therefore unaffected.

“I’ll let you up if you stop throwing shit at me.”

“No.”

“Guess you’re stuck, then.”

Lance tries for several more minutes to escape, but Keith remains firmly where he is, pinning Lance down. Lance is eventually forced to stop unless a new problem wants to pop its way up and make things more embarrassing and horrible.

Lance huffs. “Let me up. I promise not to throw more rocks at you.”

Keith squints suspiciously at him. “Are you lying to me?”

“Yes.”

“Well then — no, obviously?”

“C’mon, Keith.”

Lance does what he always does when he’s backed into a corner — he pulls out the brown doe eyes. He furrows his eyebrows, widening his eyes as big as he can and pouting.

“For fuck’s — oh, fine.”

Keith rolls off Lance, grumbling the whole time.

Lance blinks.

That — that worked? All he had to do was ask, barely, bat his eyelashes a little, and Keith just — listened to him?

“Oh my God, we are down bad for each other,” Lance breathes.

Keith looks ready to argue, but then stops himself, sighing.

“Yeah.”

“What are we going to — fuck, what are we going to do?”

Because Lance is not new to crushes. He’s had more of them than he can physically count. But never in his life has he wanted to judo flip someone as badly as he wanted to make out with them. That’s a new development.

“I dunno,” Keith says helplessly. He’s kind of — curled in on himself, face still red, as if he curls into a tight enough ball he can escape the situation. “You’re the plan guy! When you’re not being a dumbass, that is.”

Ignoring the jab, Lance takes a moment to ponder that. He is kind of the plan guy, isn’t he? It’s him who came up with all the Garrison escape plans he dragged Hunk into. It’s him who came up with the elevator shaft idea. Hell, he can quite possibly trace every one of his major life moments to a point where he said ‘hey, I wonder how I can make this work for me.’

Plan guy. Plan guy. He can be the plan guy. That’s all anything is, right? Making decisions and working out how to get there. He’s good at that.

But what decision does he want with Keith? What does he want with Keith, period?

“Step one,” Lance decides, “is that we should make out.”

Keith looks at him in surprise. “That’s step one?”

Lance nods firmly. “Yep. If we make out now, we can figure out all the weird tension shit. Maybe we don’t actually like each other. Maybe we’re just, like, bored.”

Keith looks doubtful, but he makes his way closer anyway.

“I guess so.”

“Yep.”

“So I just — kiss you?”

“Well, we don’t have all day, Mullet.”

Truly, Lance’s heart is pounding. He has no fucking clue how he’s managing to sound even remotely normal. He feels like he might implode.

Hesitantly, Keith reaches for Lance’s face, resting a palm on his cheek. His hand is warm, even through the gloves of their suits. Hot, really; nearly burning. He rests it there for a moment, absentmindedly — or maybe intentionally — rubbing his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone as his eyes trace nervously over Lance’s lips. He leans in close slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world, eyes fluttering shut as his lips get closer and closer to Lance’s. He gets close enough that Lance can see the startling length of his eyelashes, the tiny mole at the corner of his mouth, the chapped skin of his lips.

Lance doesn’t even know how to categorize the sound that comes out of his mouth when their lips finally touch. It’s — breathy; stuttering. Like all the air escapes out of his lungs the second his skin touches Keith’s.

Keith tilts his head a little, sliding their noses together, his free hand coming to rest at Lance’s hip. Lance’s hands move without his permission, sliding up the chest plate of Keith’s armour and over his shoulders, resting finally in his hair, fingers tangling around the thick black strands. He pulls on them slightly, and Keith gets the hint, opening his mouth and pushing closer.

Lance’s heartbeat slows from its jackrabbit pace. He stops focusing on anything except the warmth of Keith’s skin on his, the rhythm of their mouths moving together, the occasional sighs Keith makes at the back of his throat. He forgets where he is, what he’s doing; hell, he forgets his own damn name. The only thing he cares about is pressing closer to Keith, keeping them melded together.

“Well. Obviously you didn’t need saving.”

Lance’s eyes fly open and he shoves Keith backwards with a yelp.

“Hunk! What — where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Yellow is not a quiet machine,” Hunk says drily. “Like, seriously. The fact that you are just now reacting to my presence speaks wonders. I know you’ve liked Keith for a while now, dude, but there’s no way he’s that good of a kisser.”

“Oh my God,” Keith says faintly, and Lance can’t help but agree.

Goddamn. First he’s kissing Keith, now he’s agreeing with him. What’s next? They gonna co-lead Voltron together, or something?

“Let’s just go,” Lance squeaks, scrambling to his feet and desperately avoiding eye contact. He follows a very amused-looking Hunk back to his lion, enduring his painful amount of teasing with a bright red face and a truly herculean amount of self-control, if he’s being honest. The teasing from the rest of the team is almost worse, their ‘Loverboy Lance’ jokes briefly making him panic that everyone knows about the fact that he and fucking Keith Gyeong just made out, somehow, before he remembers that oh yeah, dumbass, you were just tied to a pole for flirting with the a scam artist.

Yeesh. How time fuckin’ flies.

The only consolation to the staggering amount of humiliation is that Keith keeps glancing at Lance, going red, and looking away. So obviously Lance isn’t the only one so affected, which is a relief.

Once everyone has finally gotten their fill of making fun of Lance, Shiro dismisses them, and Lance makes a beeline to his room. He rushes through his skincare routine as quickly as he can, refusing to let himself think about a single thing the entire time.

It doesn’t work. Every single time he catches sight of his own reflection, he’s reminded that his face just spent inordinate amounts of time pressed against Keith’s not even an hour ago. Keith is all he can think about.

Plan. Plan. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?

It is not a surprise when he hears a knock at his door.

“So,” Keith says when Lance opens it, rocking back in his heels. “What’s — uh, what’s step two?”

Lance smiles, allowing himself to feel the giddiness that’s bubbling up his throat, the parts of him that are yelling ‘Keith! Keith Gyeong! He sought me out! He wants to go further! With me!’

“Let’s figure that out together,” Lance says, pulling Keith into the room and shutting the door. “I’m thinking this is going to be more of a two-man operation.”

#ft. lance sanchez and keith gyeong bc i love them and miss them and i’m channeling 2016 for this fic #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #making out #pining lance #pining keith #dumbass klance #bad flirting #s1 voltron #fluff and humour #polyglot lance #my writing #fic #longpost #innuendo #southern keith #brown-eyed lance #did i have to edit this specifically to add that? yes #this is the stupidest thing i’ve written in a long ass time

[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.11

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world, now you and your best friend Daryl Dixon had to stay alive but will you finally confess?

Warnings: This chapter contains light sh if you’re not comfortable don’t interact

Part.10

•Masterlist•

It’s been a few days since Daryl had left me to stay out god knows where with Merle, his brother who was an ass and always treated him like crap, he left and I had no more will to live, he was my anchor, I haven’t left the watch tower since I got up here I couldn’t find the effort to go down for anything

The door to the guard tower opened seeing it was Carl with Judith, coming and sitting next to me on the little makeshift bed

“Hey…..we miss you down there” he said smiling, he was such a sweet kid and ever since the incident with Lori he’s kind of clung to me but I didn’t hate it

“I’m fine here”

“Well I brought you some water and some cans of food” he said taking his back pack off and handing it over

“Thank you sweetie, sorry I’m not of any help right now, it’s hard to explain this feeling” I said as he placed little Judith in my arms

“It’s okay, I may not get it but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and I know how much you loved Daryl”

“I just miss him so much, I need him back” I said feeling my chest tighten trying to keep the tears at bay as I let Judith play around with my fingers

“If you’re soulmates you’ll meet again and from what I’ve seen you are just let him see what he’s missing and he’ll come running back for you” he smiled patting my shoulder

After some play time with Judith and a little chat with Carl he left having to change her and feed her, maybe Carl was right maybe I should go down for a bit it might clear my head, I left the guard tower making sure to cover all my cuts and saw Carol and the prisoner talking

“Hey y/n it’s good to see you” she said with that bright smile of hers

I just smiled and nodded still not feeling like my old self, the me that felt whole with Daryl, before the apocalypse I never was reliant on him like I am now but he’s still the man I love the man I’ve always loved, I can’t just bounce back to normal without the person I’ve had in my life since I was a kid

I wandered around the courtyard, picking up some stray garbage helping to clean up the place when there was a gun shot, I looked around frantic seeing Axel dead on the ground Carol hiding behind his body as more guns went off

I ran to go back to the watch tower hoping to get some cover but the distance was further than I thought and I didn’t know where the shots were coming from so I didn’t know if I was covered and that was quickly proven when that familiar feeling of stinging warmth flooded my body

I fell to the ground right as I got to the watch tower dragging myself inside somehow, slumping down on the stairs looking at the blood gushing down my chest and right arm, a bullet gone right into my shoulder, the blood oozing out quickly making me lightheaded fast from my low iron

I ripped off a piece of my shirt struggling to wrap it around my shoulder and tying it off tight to help the bleeding, I laid back against the stairs feeling weak, the sound of blood pumping in my head by body exhausted

The gun fire had ceased and I heard the others outside scared trying to figuring out everything that happened

I tried to kick the door open but it was no use, my vision was starting to blur and become spotty

Daryl’s POV

“Where’s y/n?” I asked looking around not seeing her Carol or T.dog

“Last I saw she was trying to run back to the watch tower she’s been staying in” Carl said pointing over to the tower me and her always stayed in on our turns

“Damn” I grunted running across the court, Carl and Maggie right behind me as I yanked the door open, the sight making my heart stop

Normal POV

Voices around me, faces blurred but the closer it got the more I knew it was Daryl as I was gently picked up

“D….Daryl” I spluttered out

“I’m here sunshine”

Then everything went black

Daryl’s POV

I ran with her in my arms to the cell block laying her down next to Hershel as he yelled for the others to get his supplies

“Will she be okay?” I asked focusing on all the blood covering her, I should have never left why the hell did I leave

“We gotta stop the bleeding, with her being anemic she’s gonna have a harder time lasting with all this blood lose but I’ll do all I can” he said as he pressed down hard, after it stopped he pulled out the bullet stitched her up and sterilized it then bandaging her wound

“She’s bleeding on her leg too” he said noticed blood that had seeped through her jeans, I was hesitant but her health was more important so I pulled her jeans down enough for us to see what was causing the bleeding here and it finally broke me because this was my fault and I knew it, Hershel looked at me with worried eyes then went to clean them

I moved her to our bed on the perch and waited for her to wake up, hoping she woke up, I can’t believe this happened to her again in the span of a year, shot twice my sunshine the girl who’s stuck by me always making sure I was okay and now I’m the reason she hurt herself, the reason I wasn’t here to protect her

I gently peeled her out of her blood soaked clothes and put her in a spare shirt of mine and some looser jean shorts that covered her cuts, I found a clean rag and a bucket of water and cleaned off her face and any dirt that had accumulated on her body

I hope she come back to me soon

Normal POV

My head was pounding and everything was so bright and hazy

“Fuck” I groaned trying to cover my eyes but shoot pain through my shoulder

“Hey yer awake” I heard from beside me, I tried to focus and his face came into view, it was Daryl

“Am I dead? Or did you come back” I asked running my hand on his scruffy face

“ ‘m back I shoulda never left” he said filled with guilt

“Why would you go Daryl, I’ve always been there………you promised”

Part.12

Will y/n forgive Daryl or will she be scared he’ll hurt her again

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @willowshadenox @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @i-wear-wet-socks313

#twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd x reader #twd fluff #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon series #the walking dead series

[corruptedcaps]

Bad Blonde: Dora

This is a follow up to Bad Blonde

Lucy had hoped that a good night sleep would have cleared her mind of any further urge to put on the wig but her dreams had made sure to stoke the fire of her desire. Her dreams were filled with images of herself as Lucia. She was feared and loved in equal measure and took what she wanted without care for anyone else. It felt liberating. She was filled with such confidence and power in her dream world that when she woke the next morning she felt incredibly deflated.

At breakfast she stared intensely at the fridge freezer knowing what was hidden behind the door. She could almost hear the voice of the wig call out to her, tempting her to open it, rip open the garbage bag and shove the wig on her head. She found herself wet at the mere thought of it as she sat eating her breakfast. She felt on edge and wasn’t sure she could last. She hadn’t even noticed Dora walk in.

“Hey babe, you look like a wreck.” Dora said bluntly. Lucy knew her girlfriend meant it out of worry but the comment made her snap.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?” Lucy hissed at Dora who seemed taken aback by sudden vitriol.

“I-I just mean you look like you had a bad night sleep is all.” Dora said sheepishly backing away slightly.

“Well I did if you must know but keep your comments to yourself.” Lucy said filling with rage by the second.

“Lucy what’s gotten into you? First it was that nasty comment yesterday then I get home and you didn’t get the food you said you would and now you’re acting like a b-i-t-c-h.” Dora said finding some courage but almost instantly regretting it when she saw the fire in Lucy’s eyes.

Lucy was livid staring at Dora. How dare she be so insolent! Who did she think she was speaking to? Lucy was a goddess compared to Dora.

That’s when it hit Lucy. She wanted the power over Dora, she wanted to be her bully more than she wanted to be her girlfriend. The wig had given her a taste of being a bad bitch and now she was addicted. She needed to get out of the house and away from the wig before she became the monster she was desperate to be.

“Just stay the fuck away from me.” Lucy said pushing past Dora and heading outside away from the temptation. Of course Lucy meant what she said to Dora as a way of protecting her but Dora stood in the kitchen, eyes filling with water, not knowing what she has done to so upset her girlfriend.

Unfortunately at times like this Dora turned to something sweet to make herself feel better. Opening the freezer to take out her favourite container of ice cream she was instead faced with a black garbage bag. Pulling it out she was surprised at how light it was. Out of curiosity she ripped open the bag to find out what was inside.

“What the heck?” Dora said finding the bright blonde wig inside. She recognized it immediately as the wig from the store and thought Lucy must have bought it but why was it in the fridge. All her questions seemed to fade away though as soon as she touched the wig. She was instantly enamoured by it and a great desire to wear it arose inside her.

Lifting the wig over her own dull brown hair she gently moved it into place. Within seconds the blonde hair was tightly on her head and for a second she thought about what Lucy had said yesterday about the wig not fitting her head. Maybe she had been right.

“Or maybe she was jealous of how good you would look with me on your head?” The wig cooed inside Dora’s head. Dora was understandably shocked to hear someone else’s voice in her head but still didn’t take off the wig.

“Holy cow, are you real? Am I going mad?” Dora asked into the air.

“Of course I’m real honey and you should be mad. Mad for what Lucy puts you through. For the way she treats you. You deserve more respect, not just from her but from everyone.” The wig said.

Dora had a sudden realization while wearing the wig. This was why Lucy acted so mean yesterday, while she was so on edge today. Even now Dora could feel the wigs tendrils trying to corrupt her. It felt good but Dora knew the wig was bad news. It was trying to turn her against the love of her life and imagined it had tried to do the same to Lucy. A plan formulated in her mind to get the wig out of their lives, she just had to play along…

“Respect? Me? Look at me I’m a flabby nobody.” Dora said rejected.

“That’s true but let’s see if we can’t make you a hot somebody!” The wig said moments before Dora felt her body begin to shift and transform. Her weight instantly rearranged itself around her body giving her a sleek but still curvaceous form with any excess fat going straight to her tits.

“Holy shit! What have you done? I look so…so… so fucking sexy.” Dora said letting the profanity fly. Her mind was still on the plan at hand but she was loving the way her new body looked with the combo of the blonde hair. She didn’t have the same hang up with being blonde as Lucy and in fact admired the gorgeous blonde women who lifted their noses at them on a daily basis. Sure they were mean bitches but they were popular, loved and feared in equal measure.

“Don’t you think you deserve respect now?” The wig asked. To the wigs surprise Dora took a moment to answer.

At her core Dora wanted to be accepted but also wanted to stand out from the crowd. That’s why she loved thrift shopping, she wanted to be noticed even if she was mocked for it. Now however she could be noticed in a more pleasing way. She’d never be mocked like this. Her mind swam with the possibilities but her conscious pushed her forward with her plan.

“I guess but respect comes with some amount of power right? I feel like I would strain to lift a handbag right now.” Dora said stroking her soft but weak arms.

“You’re totally right! What is respect without strength to back it up?” The wig said happy that Dora was suggesting ways to corrupt her further. The next moment Dora felt her whole body tingle as here muscles toned and strengthened. The look of her body remained unchanged but she knew she could now lift a man twice her size with ease. The thought alone made her wet. She lifted up a stone paperweight on her desk and squeezed it. Easily she turned it into dust. She knew if she was to defeat the wig she had only one shot before she gave in to its corruption.

“Mmmm yessss no one will mess with me now! However raw strength can only take me so far. You have real power. You can change my very body with a thought. Power like that would make me unstoppable don’t you think?” Dora said admiring her improved form in the mirror nonchalantly while hoping her plan would work and thankfully for her the wig took the bait.

“Absolutely! Dora you are a joy to work with, you have such naughty ideas. Take my power and become a goddess!” The wig purred and Dora felt her body suddenly levitate off the ground as it became infused with dark magic. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as black electricity came from her head and enveloped her body. Electricity which unexpectedly burned away any remnants of her soul.

She moaned with delight as her mind filled up with dark schemes and the desire to enact them. She had full knowledge now of the wigs capabilities and couldn’t wait to use them. She felt unleashed for the first time, well mostly.

“Doesn’t my power feel delicious running through your veins. You should be honoured, I’ve never let anyone share them before.” The wig said as Dora slowly returned to the floor with a cold look on her face and a more confident stance in her posture.

”Don’t worry you’ll never have to share them with anyone again.” Dora said with a smirk as she ripped the wig off her head. Her body remained the same however except her hair was back to its normal brown colour. Walking over to some candles on her table she picked up the lighter that was beside it and without hesitation lit the wig on fire.

“Now that I have your powers I don’t need you anymore. My plan was to strip you of your abilities so no one could be corrupted by you again and it worked flawlessly but I didn’t expect for the magic to wipe away that pesky soul of mine. What a delightful side effect. As a result it awoke the bitch inside me. It opened Pandora’s box if you will. Mmmm what a hot name, I think I’ll take it.” She spoke to the wig as she slowly watched it disintegrate with pleasure.

As the last hair went up in flames, Pandora smirked knowing she was in charge now. No wig, no Lucy, no anybody, she would never play second fiddle to anyone again.

Walking back to the mirror she looked at her new body with glee but also with plans. What the wig had done was a good start but with its unlimited power she would become every bit the goddess she now felt.

Most were simple improvements on what she already had. She increased her cup size, tanned her skin, grew her nails etc so the most obvious change she made was to turn her hair to the blonde colour of the wig. It might have been residual influence of the wig in her mind but couldn’t see herself as anything other than a blonde now.

“There we go. Perfection. Now to make sure I’m completely unstoppable.” She said taking out her phone and texting Lucy asking her what the strange bag was in the freezer. She knew that would have Lucy scurrying home. In the meantime it would give Pandora some time to test out her ability to shapeshift clothes into something more fitting her demeanour.

Less than 30 minutes later Lucy burst into the apartment calling out for Dora and hearing only a soft ‘here’ come from their bedroom. Pushing the door open Lucy expected the worse and found her fear realized to see a completely transformed Dora sitting before her clad in red velvet, holding a glass of wine, looking every inch the villain.

“Oh god Dora, it got to you too?! You have to take it off before it permanently corrupts you.” Lucy pleaded but Pandora just smiled an eerie smile at her.

“Why? So you can have it to yourself? So you can become Lucia?” Pandora said.

“No of course not I-you, eh it’s just evil is all and it’s no good for you or for me.” Lucy said flustered for being called out.

“Oh dear it had you bad didn’t it? You’re stammering and lying to the love of your life. You would do anything to have that power again wouldn’t you? To become that bitch Lucia again wouldn’t you?” Pandora said getting to her feet and standing imposingly over Lucy.

“No how could you… I mean it was nice but… oh fuck you’re right! I loved being hot and mean and evil! I came rushing back not to protect you but to have the power to myself but I’m too late.” Lucy said dropping her head in failure. Pandora however reached out and lifted her girlfriend’s head so they were staring eye to eye.

“Lucky for you the power the hair had no longer exists in the wig. Mainly because the wig no longer exists so it doesn’t make the rules anymore. I do.” Pandora smirked as she reached behind her head and pulled at her long golden hair producing a large ponytail like clump that didn’t diminish her own hair. In fact it was like she pulled the hair from thin air.

“I’ll give you a choice. Become my second in command and receive a fraction of the power you would have had or remain your unremarkable self. Lucy or Lucia, the choice is yours.” Pandora said holding the hair out for Lucy who waited no time at all the grab the hair and put it on her head.

The hair eagerly latched onto her own hair creating a tight high ponytail and spread outward like a virus turning the brown into blonde. Lucy threw her head back as the corruption rushed from down her body giving her the body she so craved.

Within seconds she had completely transformed into a new woman, she was once again Lucia. This time however the creeping ill will towards Dora that the wig had poisoned her mind with was gone. In fact she positively adored her. She knew that she would do anything for her now. Anything for her Queen.

“Welcome back Lucia. How do you feel?” Pandora said practically proud of her first creation.

“Perfect my mistress. Thank you for deeming me worthy of you power. I am forever in your debt.” Lucia said looking at Pandora with undying loyalty.

“Good. You will help me recruit more girls who desire a status change in their life. I will provide them with ponytails to give them everything they desire turning them into my army of slutails. With them at my disposal, I’ll enough to take control.” Pandora said gathering her bag and preparing to leave.

“Control what mistress?” Lucia said following obediently. Pandora turned around and smiled at her ignorant thrall.

“Why everything of course.” Pandora said followed by a sinister chuckle. The two changed women left their dingy apartment with conquest on their mind.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #corrupted hair #corrupted wig #evil couple #sequel

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE VILLAIN DEKU X READER

You were a 5 year old cute adorable shy little girl but wasn't afraid to protect your loved ones. You were going to the playground to practice using your quirk which by the way, was Nuclear Explosion. you were about to play on the swing and just then, you saw a certain green broccoli haired boy getting bullied by a loud angry ash blonde who suspiciously, looked like a rat or a hedgehog on crack

''Face it Deku! I'm better than you and you're just a quirkless pathetic waste of space who will NEVER surpass me and don't waste your time aiming to be a hero'' snarled the blonde as the green haired kid looked like as if he was about to cry. The blonde haired boy pushed him and he fell and that's what made your blood boil in anger.

''Hey! Stop bullying him you big meanie!'' you yelled and stuck your tongue at him. ''What did you say to me you damn extra?'' shouted the blonde kid. You fired your nuclear explosions at him and his 3 goons and they left in a hurry after that. "I'll get you for this you damn extra, whatever the hell your name is!'' he shouted. ''I have a NAME and it's Y/N you big moron!'' You helped the green haired kid get up and he had some tears in his eyes and was clutching an all might figurine, someone who you were fond of as well

''Are you all right?'' you asked the green haired kid as he nodded and stuttered that he was fine. He introduced himself as Izuku Midoriya and the blonde who bullied him was Kaachan or Katsuki bakugou. ''Come on, I'll help you clean up, you have a pretty big bruise there on your knee'' and led him towards a park bench. You patched it up with a band-aid as Izuku saw your tiny soft magical hands at work. He turned red whenever you touched him and his face was becoming flushed and his heart beat faster than ever. ''Are you okay? Do you have a fever?'' you asked him and touched his forehead and he shook his head vigorously. You both became best friends after that and you stood up for him whenever Katsuki bullied him. Little did you know, even Katsuki had grown feelings towards you. Fast forward to where you guys are in middle school cuz, I'm too lazy (lol)

Izuku's POV: Here I am, waiting for Y/N chan in front of her house so we can go to school together. I really LOVE and enjoy having her around. She always helps me when Kaachan bullies me and she's really kind and caring. But... why does my chest hurt so much when she talks to other people and gives them her attention? I hate it when Y/N spends her precious time with someone else.... They don't deserve her. They don't deserve her attention. I wish I could be strong so I could protect her just like a knight in shining armor and all that. 

''Izuku!'' chirped a cheerful and yet soft female voice snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Y/N looking at me with her beautiful eyes. "Shall we get going?'' she asked me. "S-sure'' I stuttered. We were on the way to our middle school and we witnessed a fight between our idol All Might and a villain. ''Oh my gods, LOOK!'' gasped Y/N and clutched my arm looking nervous. Of course, I turned pink but she didn't see it, thank goodness. We were watching the fight and finally All Might won. I wanted to talk to him and I asked Y/N to go on without me even though I was reluctant to leave her alone. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her but..... I needed to talk to All Might alone. "All Might, do-d- do you think I could still become a hero without a quirk?'' and when All Might gave me his answer, it shattered my heart into a million pieces. He said I couldn't be a hero without a quirk and I was devastated! All my hopes and dreams crushed within less than a second! I went to school feeling like garbage since that's exactly how I felt right now. Maybe Kaachan was right..... maybe I shouldn't be a hero..... I'm just a pathetic quirkless nobody. I went to school and when our homeroom teacher announced that me, Y/N and Kaachan wanted to get into the UA, people started snickering at us. Well, at me mostly. Y/N asked them to shut up and then got into a heated argument with Katsuki and finally ended up in detention, along with him. I have to admit, Y/N gotten bolder and it's really cute and adorable. 

But I wasn't going to let MY darling Y/N chan be ALONE with Kaachan for an ENTIRE hour. Who knows what he's going to do to her? So, in order for her not to be lonely and to keep an eye on Kaachan to make sure he doesn't try anything with my puppy, I NEED to get detention too. So, I purposefully looked like as if I wasn't paying attention to the teacher and what do you know? I got detention as well.... 

The bell finally rang and soon, it was time for detention. Y/N headed out and told me she'd wait for me at the detention room. I was about to follow her when Kaachan pulled me back by my collar and hissed, ''Stay the HELL away from Y/N. She's MINE and I LOVE her, you understand, you DAMN nerd?'' and burned my wrists a little. ''Kaachan stop it, I love her too'' I said and that's how burns decorated my body yet again. ''Just stay away from her and why not take a swan dive off a roof? If you're lucky you'll wake up with a quirk in your NEXT life'' and burned  my hero analysis notebook to ash. Y/N chan comforted me during detention and swore that she'd pulverize him to death but I shook my head. Soon, it was time for us to go home but I didn't go home. No. I went somewhere and met someone who changed my life forever and made me see things in a different perspective..... That day had completely changed me and no doubt, my darling Y/N chan would certainly have tears in her eyes but I'll wipe them off and comfort her.... After all... I'm the ONLY one she needs.....

Y/N's POV: It' been 2 years since my best friend Izuku went missing. I never liked calling him 'Deku' since it meant useless and it was given to him by that hot headed hedgehog Katsuki. I swore to myself that I'd gain my pro hero licence and the second I do, I would do WHATEVER I could to find him and get him back. His mother was out of her mind with worry every single day and I would comfort her before going to the UA, the most prestigious school in Japan for upcoming heroes. Unfortunately, even Kaachan got in too. I went to Mrs. Midoriya's house and comforted her and went to the UA. Seeing the building always made me have glistening tears in my eyes since it was our dream to be in the UA together and now.... that was all just a mirage. I made my way to class 1a and while Katsuki was glad that Izuku didn't come to the UA, I told him to shut up. ''This all your fault. You always used to bully him and its because of you he's.... he's gone'' I said angrily as Katsuki replied, ''Tch... why do you even care about that quirkless nerd?'' ''He was my FRIEND!'' I shouted and by now, everyone in class 1a turned to stare at us but I didn't care 

Classes dragged on as usual and when we went to the grounds for hero training, we heard the school's security's alarms blaring loudly. ''Quick! Everyone, stay in the classrooms! The pro heroes will ensure you're safe! There are villains attacking!'' yelled Present Mic over the speakers and just as we were about to make a run for it, a purple portal opened up in front of us and out came a buff well built looking guy with a green mask, with a blue haired crusty looking person and a blonde haired girl wearing a school uniform 

The green haired guy removed his mask and I recognized his freckles along with his emerald eyes and his green hair. Slowly it was starting to hit me.... Izuku, my dear friend was a.... villain!!?? 

''Izuku?'' I whispered and looked shocked as hell and so did Katsuki. "What the HELL you DAMN nerd?'' ''Ah.... an old reunion among childhood friends. How sweet'' said Izuku smiling sickly. ''Stay back'' threatened Aizawa. '' Izuku, why did you become a.... a villain?'' I asked him with tears in my eyes. '' Ah... my darling Y/N chan. Sweetheart, who wouldn't become one after they've been let down by their idol and on top of that being bullied for being quirkless? That arrogant ego filled jerk KATSUKI bullied me till NO ENDS!! And heck! Even my own MOM gave up on me after she found out I was quirkless! But Y/N... you were the only one who gave me hope.... You made me happy, you always supported me, cheered me on.... Join me Y/N... Join me and I'll make sure to treat you like the princess that you deserve to be treated. To hell with this corrupted tainted hero society!'' he roared but I shook my head and ran away from him. ''Y/N chan, love, You can't escape me~'' and released some purple fog all around us. Then, I felt something hit my head and pretty soon, the only only thing I could sense was people yelling and shouting as my consciousness slowly drifted.....  

3rd Person POV: You woke up on a surprisingly comfortable bed but your hands were chained to the bed's headboard. You started hollering through your gag, making muffled noises. Soon a blue haired man and your friend Izuku appeared. ''Ask you girlfriend to join us or die.'' said the crusty looking man, as he removed your gag and you yelled, "I'm NEVER joining the LOV! Izuku, this ISN'T YOU! Why are you doing this!? How could you?'' you screamed at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn't use your quirk since he had placed a quirk canceling collar on you

He unchained you and rubbed your back in a somewhat soothing manner, waiting for you to calm down. ''Do... do you have any idea how WORRIED your mom was'' you asked him, as he quickly kissed you on your lips in order to shut you up. You tried fighting him, but gave in to him in the end. He broke the kiss and cuddled you and whispered hoarsely.... '' I love you Y/N my precious doll.... your MINE and ONLY MINE, no one else's..... And you will learn to love me at some point.....

BONUS SCENE: Toga: Uhh.... Dabi, you Do realize that if you're planning to flirt with Y/N Deku's gonna murder you, right?

Dabi: Yeah you stab queen, I figured that out, but I'm not going to lie, she was pretty good looking

Shigaraki: You're all idiots. 

Izuku: What. the HELL. did you say about MY Y/N?? 

Dabi: Uhhh....n-nothing. She's absolutely PERFECT for you and she's like my little sister. (Chuckles nervously)

Izuku: (smiles in a way no creepy serial psychotic serial killer would) Good to know.

P.S: This convo takes place AFTER you're nicely sleeping on DEKU's bed, END OF STORY

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere deku #yandere deku x reader #yandere villain deku x reader #yandere villain deku #yandere villain deku scenarios #yandere villain deku oneshots #yandere villain deku imagines #yandere villain deku headcanons #yandere izuku midoriya x reader #yandere izuku midoriya

[fuck-customers]

fuck two of my coworkers, ok. gonna be a long one.

so i’m kind of a floater between stations in the kitchen, originally hired on for pantry (cold apps, salads, and desserts) with occasional training on expo and line. since our old dishwasher got himself fired, i’ve mostly been doing that for the last couple months. for the last two weeks we’ve been having issues with the garbage disposal sink getting backed up and not draining, fucking up one of the pipes in the wall to make it overflow—this has made doing dishes in a timely fashion with one person on that station vastly more difficult.

as a result of the above, the chef (C) tells me last night to come in an hour earlier than my original schedule “so you don’t get fucked on the dishes during brunch rush.” unbeknownst to me, he also tells the main pantry worker (J1) that she needs to ask me for help to make sure she has all her prep done before brunch.

i don’t find out about that until i’ve already been working for upwards of half an hour on making sure all the stations have the dishes they’re supposed to and any leftover from last night have been put away. this includes multiple trips to and from pantry to cart stacks of plates, during any of which J1 could have asked me to help when i get my hands free. instead, it’s the SOUS CHEF (S) who stops me on my way to prep for a weekly cleaning task to tell me to ask J1 if she needs help.

i’m just like, yeah ok sure, and i go to ask her. she’s like “🫤 weren’t you supposed to be over here helping me anyway” and i’m like “…i don’t know, C told me to come in for dishes, i’m just going off of what he said.” and ask her what she needs help with. she puts me on a non-crucial task that ends up fucking us over because we’re completely out of one of our more popular menu items for pantry, and she and the other floater/currently mostly pantry guy (J2) haven’t been getting their prep done right/at all. meaning i have to drop everything while the brunch rush is starting to get everything prepped before i can even make the item for it to be served. (put a pin in this. 📌)

brunch ends, we each get our 15, i come back from break and ask C where he wants me, “so i’m back on the same page as the rest of the kitchen.” he tells me to continue helping at pantry, making filling for deviled eggs. i don’t know the new recipe and he hasn’t written it down yet, so he tells me to plate desserts instead. J1 comes back from break right then and starts plating desserts. J1 does know the new filling recipe. i just kind of sigh and go back to C and ask him to just show me how to make the new filling. C, instead, walks back to pantry with me, and tells J1 to swap roles with me, telling her to make the filling while i plate cakes. she doesn’t fucking hear him because she’s got headphones on and loud, to the point that i have to get her attention three times before she even looks up.

i say, “C wants us to switch.” she straight up rolls her eyes at me and starts moving her dessert setup. we have one working outlet that we can plug the food processor into in the pantry area, where the fuck does she think i’m going? i clarify “no, C wants you to get started on the filling, and let me finish the cakes” and she goes “oh” before moving to start the filling. the food processor turns out to not be working, so she asks me to relay that to C, and i do, and when i come back she’s fucking plating cakes again. i remind her that C told me to do that and she just goes “🙄 i got this, go do one of your other tasks” so i just get fed up with her and her shit and spend the next two hours getting some hardcore catharsis in by sweeping, deck scrubbing, and mopping the dry storage area. the rest of the night with her goes pretty smooth because i’m mostly able to ignore her while i prep for tomorrow. she’s been kind of a cunt since a friend of hers, A, got fired/walked out/i’m fuzzy on the details anyway, so like. oh well. seethe and mald but stop making your problems mine, yk? let me do my fucking job.

📌 circling back now to that pin. the popular food item in question requires sliced cured meat. there was some cut, but only enough for about 3 of them before being left with unservable scraps that C doesn’t want on the plate. so i take a fresh meat log to the slicer, only to find it in an absolute STATE. it looks like it hasn’t been cleaned all fucking month. there’s old yellowing grease all over it and bits of dried meat scraps/flakes caked everywhere on and around it that have gone past dried and starting to turn rancid—like, this shit was turning green.

i am, of course, disgusted and appalled, because making and prepping for this particular menu item was easily 85% of my job when i was focused on pantry, and the worst i ever let the slicer get was getting too busy to remember to clean it before the end of one shift and doing it first thing when i came in for the next. the worst you’d find then was some dried meat flakes that had turned a slightly darker pink. so of course i immediately set to cleaning the slicer before even thinking about putting anything intended for human consumption near it.

C comes back to see what’s taking so long bc i usually have a full log sliced by that point. i’m still in the process of cleaning the slicer, so i point out what mess is left (i had about a third of it done by now; it was Bad) and he goes “oh, that might have been J2” and tells me to hurry and slice just enough for a few more orders, and i can finish slicing after they’re arranged for service.

i come back to pantry, where J1 is now running window to expo and J2 is arranging the non-meat parts of the item. i say aloud for both of them, “hey, just so you know, we need to wipe down and sanitize the slicer after we’re done using it.” J2 straight up says “well, it wasn’t cleaned the last time i had to use it,” which just hits me with such an intense wave of anger that i go nonverbal for a minute while i focus on plating. like. so you agree, you admit it, you didn’t fucking clean it after you were done. J2 has been risking unleashing food poisoning on our entire clientele for god knows how long.

later, after dinner service, i’m helping the temp on dishes—i’m hand-washing mostly pans and other things that won’t fit in the machine in the three-tier manual sink, while the temp is running the machine, and J2 has been putting the trays of dishes away as they come out. as i’m filling the manual sinks i turn to J2 and say, “if you wanna just focus on putting things away, i can knock out the washing here,” and he agrees.

and then he proceeds to completely fucking ignore the rapidly filling sanitizer sink in favor of continuing to put away the machine dishes. even when i move things onto the counter between the sanitizer soak and the “out” side of the machine, taking up almost all of the available space to give myself room to keep cycling through the dishes, he continues ignoring it, simply lifting the dish machine trays over and past the growing pile of waiting manual dishes.

i step away for a bit to cool off, catch my breath, take something for the migraine that has been steadily building since ~11:30am (it is now almost 9pm) from having to deal with J1 and J2 all fucking day. i have been asked to help with trash as part of close. J2 has the gall to ask me “how much longer do you think you’ll be?” at a fucking guess i’m going to be a lot goddamn longer than i would be if you were actually HELPING ME, dickhead.

J2 ended up clocking out after the temps helped him with trash without putting a single manual dish away, leaving me with three full sinks and an overloaded counter. i didn’t get home until after midnight (partly because my ride was helping with after-dinner bar service) and i have to go back and do it all the fuck again at 11a again tomorrow.

i swear, if J2 gets fired and is never allowed to work in foodservice again after tonight’s bullshit, especially the state i found the deli slicer in, i’m converting back to christianity, because i’m taking it as proof that there is a merciful and loving god.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[daughter-of-sapph0]

the reason this website works while others fail is because the main dash is in reverse chronological order and only shows posts by people you choose to follow.

algorithms never work. a computer will never know what someone wants to see more than the actual person. it might give you some content that people can turn off their brains and consume for a few hours. but tumblr doesn't have "content". it doesn't have family friendly short form tiktok videos for people to scroll through for hours. it doesn't have arguments about petty internet drama where people tell each other to kill themselves for disagreeing like twitter does. like, sure those things can exist on tumblr but they aren't the main point of tumblr.

tumblr isn't content. it's conversations and art and writing and music and pictures and movies and experiences and people's lives being shared with their close friends. the reason this website works is because of the fact that their is no algorithm.

algorithms do not work for a website like tumblr. I only want to see the posts and reblogs from people I follow. the people I follow share similar interests to me and share and create posts that I know I will enjoy. even if there's a blog that posts one thing I really like, if the rest of their blog is stuff I have no interest in, I won't follow them.

staff says that the current model unfairly rewards popular blogs.

first of all, rewards them with what? clogged notification? that hardly seems like a positive, and I should know.

secondly, so what? no one cares if anyone is popular or not. follower counts aren't public. blogs don't get popular. certain posts get popular.

also thirdly, their solution to the "popular blogs" issue is to introduce an algorithm which will either:

just promote the posts of blogs with lots of followers, therefore making the "problem" they're trying to fix bigger

recommend posts from smaller blogs who do not want the attention and will end up getting "ew why am I seeing this garbage" on their personal vent posts

completely ruin the whole reason people follow tags and tag their posts in the first place and will end up thinking that non-fandom posts that aren't tagged from fandom blogs should be shown to people in that whole fandom (see point 2)

show posts to people who have no interest in them, such as showing posts about photography to people who only use tumblr to talk about video games, or vice versa

will end up promoting posts by fascists and terfs that staff still will not ban

the whole idea of an algorithm is a fucking stupid idea to implement on tumblr, and I hope that all the executives who decided to push for the idea get fired.

@staff @wip @changes @support this as a warning. no one on tumblr wants an algorithm. you can check the notes on your recent post, and it's all unanimous. people will leave this site en mass if you implement it.

you will not gain more users with an algorithm. anyone who would ever use tumblr has already jumped ship from twitter and reddit and tiktok. all those websites are currently failing because of poor executive decisions, and trying to make tumblr like them will be a death sentence. the only reason people join tumblr is because it isn't like every single social media website.

if new users wanted something similar to twitter, they'd join one of the dozens of twitter clones that will be shut down in a few weeks, like threads or bluesky or whatever the fuck they're called. people don't come here because they want twitter. people come here because they want tumblr. and an algorithm will fundamentally change and ruin what tumblr is

you will not gain users from an algorithm. but you will certainly lose them. it is a terrible decision that no one will like.

#dostxt

[cielcreations]

Ending 5: Made With Love (Dead Plate)

Trigger Warning: Cannibalism at the very end. Also a bit of mature content. Nothing too graphic, just grinding, but it's still there so if you don't like, ignore.

"Oh, wow, you actually showed up for training." The man said in a deep, gruff voice.

"On time, too!" The energetic man smiled.

"Barely." He sighed, putting one hand on his hips, "This is a highly sought after position, Rody. Be grateful you're even getting the benefit of being told how to do your job. Your resume showed many... many jobs in the service industry, so I assume you already have this down." He sighed again, "Though, I am choosing to ignore the rate at which you got new positions."

"Hey! Having 28 service industry jobs over the course of seven years is pretty impressive when you think about it, Vincent!" Rody smiled sheepishly.

"And even less impressive when you think about it for five more seconds." The chef groaned, crossing his arms over his chest, "But with those jobs, you likely already know how to seat customers. Keep in mind how many people are dining. You don't want a large group crowding around a private area. Once they're ready, they'll put their menu down and you'll go check on them."

Rody grabbed a menu, reading through it, "'What we're serving today?'" He read aloud, questioning.

"Yes, patrons don't pick what they eat, instead we have a strict menu that changes daily." Vincent narrowed his eyes, "You would know that if you read the interview."

"I, uh, skimmed it..."

"Hm." The chef hummed, unimpressed, "Once you have their meal ticket, bring it to the marker between the window and the door, that'll send it to the kitchen. The cooks will start working on whatever order you have right away, but keep in mind they prioritize cooking the dessert, side, meal, and appetizer. In that order. Do not pester or distract any of the cooks if it's taking too long. Once the order is ready, you'll find it at the window to then serve to the customers. They'll ask for more after their appetizer, so do not make them wait too long. Once they're ready for the bill, go behind the counter to check them out. Once they're done with their meal, make sure to clean their table. I don't want guests thinking we leave messes out in the open. The garbage is in the kitchen, right next to the back door. Take the trash and bring it out to the alley behind the kitchen to throw it out."

"Got it!" Rody nodded, taking it all in.

Vincent then took a menu and handed it to the redhead, "Here's a menu. Make sure to study it. Now that you know the basics, make sure you do a good job. I don't want our customers thinking we're anything less than professional."

"But, I'm not-"

"Exactly." Vincent waved him off, "If you need me, I'll be in the back. Good luck."

With Vincent in the back, Rody cleaned off the tables and began his shift. He made sure to seat and smile at the customers, taking their orders and sending it off to the chefs like it was nothing. He cleaned and bused the tables, making sure to take out the trash when needed. He mainly kept his head down the first day, that way he wouldn't get in any trouble and Vincent wouldn't feel the need to either yell or fire him for messing up.

He finished cleaning the last table, washing the dishes, and taking out the trash one last time.

"Rody." Vincent called.

The redhead stiffened a bit but turned around, "Yes?"

Vincent held out a plate, "Green Onion Rolls."

Rody stared at the plate, "...What about them?"

The chef sighed, "Take them home. We had leftovers, the food is for you."

"Really?!" Rody exclaimed excitedly, smiling, "Thank you! Do we have a to-go box or something?"

Vincent looked around. He took an empty box and slid the plate inside it, "It's not a to-go box, but it will make do."

The redhead smiled at the chef, "Thank you, Vince!"

He then went back to his apartment. Once inside, he sat on the couch, reaching for the phone. He dialed her number, waiting. When all he got was the phone ringing, he sighed. Guess she's busy. He thought. He opened his box and stood up, walking to the utensils drawer. He took out a fork, eating the Green Onion Rolls.

"Wow!" Rody exclaimed, smiling brightly, "I'll have to thank Vince again, these are amazing!"

He ate them all and went to bed.

***

"Sorry I'm late..."

"'Sorry?'" Vincent repeated as he turned around, slowly looking up from his papers, "Sorry doesn't cut it, it's only your second day and you're already-" He stopped himself, eyes widening as he finally faced Rody, "-Why do you look like that?"

"I, uh, thought biking through the rain would dry me as I go..." Rody explained, standing on the porch as he squeezed the water out of his shirt, "Turns out? It soaks you faster."

Vincent took a deep breath. He grabbed Rody's wrist, dragging him inside and to his office.

"Sit." Vincent demanded, the redhead doing so. The chef took out two towels, wrapping one around Rody's shoulders, using a smaller towel to begin to dry off his hair, "Dry off. You can't be seen by customers looking like this."

Rody hugged the towel more around his body as Vincent continued to dry off his hair.

"You do know umbrellas exist for a reason, yes?"

"I don't own one!"

The chef widened his eyes, pausing his movements. He seemed to process the words before continuing to help dry him off, lowering the towel to the back of his neck, "I'll give you mine for the ride back. Make sure this doesn't happen again."

"Oh, uh, thanks! But-" The redhead tilted his head back to look up at Vincent, "-how are you gonna be getting home without it?"

"I live here."

"...Like, in the restaurant or-?"

"My apartment is upstairs." He pushed Rody's head down, continuing to dry it.

"Oh." The redhead blinked, "That makes a lot more sense now."

"Is there a problem." Vincent asked, the last word a bit harsher than the rest.

"Nah, it's just... isn't that worrying?" Rody looked up again, "Like, if something happens to the building, it's all gonna be gone."

Vincent dropped the towel on his face, earning a squeak, "If you have enough time to talk nonsense, then you're ready for work."

Rody laughed and moved the towel off his face. He quickly dried the last little bits of his hair and smiled at the chef, "Thank you."

"No need to thank me. It's only appropriate. I can't have customers thinking I find that acceptable."

The redhead nodded and folded the towels, placing them on Vincent's desk, "Well, still, thank you."

He walked out of the office and readied himself for work before seating the first people who walked in. He seated everyone, took their orders, served them, cleaned the tables, and checked people out, being able to balance it out very easily. Eventually, when everyone had left, he took out the trash, throwing it away in the back alley before coming back inside. He saw Vincent, staring at the chefs, walking over.

"Hey, Vince, can I ask you something?"

"It's Chef." Vincent corrected.

"Right, uh, Chef, can I ask you something?" Rody once again questioned.

"I doubt you have this much free time to be asking me so many questions, on your second day, no less."

Rody ignored his quip, "Why do you just stand back here?"

"My job is to observe and monitor the chefs. They are to cook my dishes to perfection. If they are to even slightly stray from the way I would cook, I must step in." 

"No wonder your food is so good!" The redhead smiled brightly.

Vincent didn't say anything, merely raising an eyebrow.

"Your food was delicious! I've never tasted something so good! It filled me up and made me crave for more!" The redhead giggled, "No wonder you're an amazing chef, your food makes me feel warm inside!"

A light pink dusted the chef's cheeks as he looked away, "...Get back to work, Rody."

The redhead giggled and nodded, going back out to the dining room. He continued on with his work, seating people and taking their orders once more. After another few hours, his shift ended. He finished cleaning what he needed to and got ready to leave.

"Rody, wait." The redhead turned. Vincent walked over, offering his umbrella as well as a small box, "Inside is Blueberry Crepes. You said you liked the food I made, and there was extra. Here."

The redhead smiled brightly, "Awesome! Thank you, Vince!"

Vincent merely nodded in response. With the chef's umbrella and the food in his hand, Rody went home. Once he got back to his apartment, he once again sat on the couch, looking at the phone. This time, he was a bit hesitant with calling her. However, she once again didn't answer. Guess she's still busy. Rody thought. He changed into his pajamas before sitting on the couch to eat the crepes. He hummed, smiling brightly. They were so fluffy and light, making him smile as he ate the entire plate.

Vincent is such an amazing chef. He thought, smiling slightly, ...So considerate too...

He put the dirty dishes in the sink before laying on the couch to fall asleep.

***

The shift started out normal. He seated who needed to be seated, took the orders to the kitchen, served the food, checked them out, and bussed tables. He was beginning to make very decent tips and was extremely upbeat and happy with his progress. Eventually the trash got full and he had to take it out-

"Ow!" Rody exclaimed, looking at his hand, dropping the bag, "C-Crap-"

"Rody."

The redhead turned, facing Vincent, who was staring at him. He turned panic, "I-I'm sorry! T-There's something i-in the trash!" He looked at his hand, "I-I think it m-may have ripped the b-bag open w-when I dropped it a-a-and-"

"Rody." The chef repeated, taking a step forward.

Blood spilled from his palm, a large cut on it, "I-It cut me! I-I swear, I didn't throw a-anything I-I wasn't suppose to, I-I'll clean it up-"

"You don't need to worry about that. Let me see." Vincent said gently, face remaining calm. He gently took Rody's wrist in one hand, spreading his fingers with the other to see the damage of the wound, "It's a shallow cut, nothing too serious."

"I-I'm sorry-"

"Hush, Rody. This way."

"But the mess-"

"I said you don't have to worry about that. Someone else will clean it." Vincent turned to face the chefs, two immediately jumping to do so. He then led Rody into his office, sitting him in a chair as he carefully applied ointment to the redhead's hand, "You can't be serving customers with this."

"I-I'm really sorry." Rody looked down as Vincent wrapped his hand.

"Accidents happen. It's alright."

"Am I fired?"

"Was this intentional?"

"N-No, of course not-"

"Then there's no reason to be fired." The chef reassured, "Is that why you got freaked out?"

The redhead remained silent.

"Your silence speaks volumes." Vincent stood up, "Stay here for a moment. Collect yourself."

"I-I can-"

"Rody, I'm not asking." The chef interrupted, "You are a little shaken up. That is fine. I can handle the customers for a few minutes. In the meantime, collect yourself. It's alright."

Rody stared at the man before smiling gratefully, "T-Thank you."

Vincent nodded in response. He walked out of his office and Rody sat for a few minutes, calming himself down from his panic attack. When he felt he had calmed down enough, he left the office. He went out to the floor, where Vincent had just finished giving an order to the kitchen.

"I'll tag in!" Rody exclaimed, offering a high five.

The chef rolled his eyes, but let out a small chuckle, gently tapping his hand against the redhead's, "Good. You're feeling better. I'm terrible with customers."

"Never would have guessed." He said sarcastically.

Vincent chuckled once more before disappearing into the kitchen. Rody finished his shift and cleaned everything up. Once he was sure everything was ready for tomorrow, he went into the kitchen to bid his goodbyes. Vincent gave him a plate of Squid Ink Pasta with Shrimp, Rody thanking his profusely. He went home once more, sitting on the couch. He stared at the phone for a minute.

Should I call her? Rody thought. He hesitated but did. He dialed in her number and, with every passing digit, he couldn't help but hope she... wouldn't answer. He didn't want her too, which felt odd when a few days ago, he would have begged her to answer his calls. When she didn't pick up, he sort of sighed in relief. She must be busy. He sat back into the couch, taking a bite of the pasta.

Rody smiled brightly, eating the entire portion, "Man, I totally have to get something to properly thank Vince for all this delicious food!"

He watched a little TV before falling asleep.

***

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

Rody wasn't sure what he walked in on. He was working his shift and was bringing in some dirty dishes to take out the trash when he saw Vincent standing in front of another cook, glaring with such hate and malice.

"I-I apologize, Chef-"

"A 'sorry' doesn't fucking cut it, now does it?" Vincent hissed, accenting his words.

Rody shut the door behind him, not wanting customers to hear as he watched the scene.

"Do you think a dish like that is at all acceptable in my kitchen?!" Vincent gestured to the plate.

"N-No, Chef-"

"Then why did you make it?!"

"I-I don't know, Chef, I m-must've-"

"'You don't know?!'" Vincent raised his voice, his burning hate becoming more pronounced in his voice.

"I-It must've slipped my mind, Chef!" The cook managed to squeak out, "S-Some flour had been left near the stove and I-I didn't want to get burnt-"

Vincent put the man's hands behind his back. One of the Chef's hand held the cook's arms in place as the other grabbed the man by the back of his hair. He then shoved the man's face towards the burner stove, keeping it out of reach of the flames, the man squeaking, Rody gasping.

"Don't back talk me in my own fucking kitchen, you damn pig." Vincent growled, "If you plan on being a semi-decent cook, you have no conceivable reason to be scared of something like a stove. If you get burnt, you keep cooking. If you can't follow simple safety regulations, it'd be your own damn fault."

The cook gulped, whispering out, "Y-Yes, Chef."

"I can't hear you."

"Y-YES, CHEF!" The cook yelled.

Vincent hummed. He lifted the man back up and let go, "Get the hell back to work." He demanded before turning. His eyes met Rody, the redhead staring with... awe.

Vincent walked to the back corner of the room to once again watch the cooks, Rody moving to stand beside him, "What? Are you going to tell me how what I did was wrong?"

"Are you single?"

"P-Pardon?!" Vincent exclaimed, his composure breaking. He coughed into his hand, quickly regaining it, "W-Why do you ask?"

Rody giggled, smirking, "Was wondering if that's how you treat your lady~!"

"I-I beg your pardon?!" Vincent's composure broke once more, his face turning bright red.

The redhead laughed before he waved his hand around, "I'm teasing, I'm teasing!" He giggled, "I mainly ask because I wanted to know a bit more about you! You must be a ladies man, right? With owning your own restaurant and all?"

"I-I suppose I am..." Vincent cringed.

"So, do you plan to settle down? Maybe have a wife and some kids, hire a manager to run the place?"

"...This is me settling down. I do this for myself."

"You still didn't answer my question."

"What?"

"Are you single?" Rody hummed, smiling.

"...Yes, I am." Vincent admitted, "And no, I don't wish to have a wife."

Rody widened his eyes a bit, "...You bi or something?"

"If you must know, I label myself as gay." Vincent blushed, "Are you satisfied with knowing my nonexistent love life?"

"Yep!" Rody stood in front of Vincent, winking as he smiled slyly, "Cause now I know I might have a chance!"

Before Vincent could respond, the redhead quickly moved to clean his dishes and get back to work. He finished his shift and went to the kitchen. Vincent had a proper to-go box ready for him, the Chef giving it to him and turning away, face still a light shade of red. Rody giggled, winking once more before leaving. He got home and opened the to-go box.

Strawberry Shortcake.

The redhead happily ate the food before turning on the TV. He then grabbed a magazine that was dropped off with the daily newspaper. He browsed through it and looked at all the ads before he widened his eyes. Oh, that's it! That's what I need! He thought. Rody shut the TV off, grabbed a marker, and circled it before laying down on the couch.

He looked at the phone. He reached out before stopping himself, shaking his hand as he closed his eyes.

She's probably busy, and I don't care. Rody thought, falling asleep.

***

The next two days were uneventful in terms of work. Rody and Vincent continued to talk between shifts when they could, the redhead smiling every time and standing a bit closer each time they did talk. Vincent didn't seem to mind. In fact, his stiff posture was loosened as they talked. His shoulders would slump, he wouldn't look so stern. He still tried to maintain a blank face, but he couldn't help the occasional smile that fell on his lips. Rody was sent home with a Croque Madame and a Lemon Tart the previous two days, which he ate and made sure to praise Vincent for.

However, the third day, Rody went into the kitchen and Vincent wasn't there to give him a plate of food. In fact, Vincent wasn't there, period. He looked around, even knocked on his office door. The Chef just wasn't there. He sighed. Granted, he wasn't owed any food, but he did appreciate the food and he did want it, simply because he loved Vincent's cooking.

No matter, he went home and got changed, beginning to think of what to order offline. However, the phone started to ring.

Rody answered, "Hello?"

"Rody?" The deep voice on the other sighed asked.

"A-Ah, Vince!" The redhead cleared his throat, smiling, "Hi! What's up?"

"Are you free tonight?" Vincent asked.

"Huh?" He blushed.

"I'm hosting a dinner party at my apartment and was checking if you're available."

Oh, that's what you meant. Rody thought, frowning a bit, "Yes, I am..."

"Good. Be here in the next few minutes. Oh, and, I..." Vincent trailed off.

"Vince?"

"I apologize."

"For what?"

"I... I disappeared before you came into the kitchen and I wasn't able to give you a plate of food. I apologize."

Rody smiled, He remembered? "It's fine Vince-"

"No, it isn't. I... I like cooking for you."

The redhead blushed, "...Well, I like eating your food."

"Good, you'll have plenty of it tonight."

Vincent hung up and Rody chuckled. He put the phone down changing to a more casual outfit before going back to the restaurant. Vincent was waiting outside, the chef holding out his hand to the redhead. Rody was confused and placed his hand on the Chef's. The man gently intertwined their fingers and led Rody inside the restaurant. The redhead blushed as he was pulled along up the stairs and to Vincent's home.

"Wow, this place looks..." Rody took everything in, from the bright red couches and loveseats, to the triangle coffee table, to the cow hide rug they stood on. He smiled awkwardly, "No offense, but stick to being a chef."

"Excuse me?"

"Wait, I thought you said this was a dinner party?" Rody changed the subject, "Where are the other people?"

"They will arrive shortly. I-" Vincent looked away, "-wanted you to get here first..."

Rody blushed. Vincent led him to the couch and had him sit before leaving to the kitchen to grab some plates. When the Chef returned, he was balancing three plates; a plate of escargots, a cheese plater, and deviled eggs. Rody smiled brightly and happily took a couple of eggs and a bit of cheese, smiling brightly as he ate. Vincent smiled softly as he watched other.

"Your food is so good!" Rody smiled brightly, "I could eat it forever!"

Vincent smiled, "I'm glad."

Before they could continue, the doorbell rang. Vincent sighed before he stood up, going to the door. He allowed the people in, Rody watching as the people came in. He stood up, the people coming in and beginning to mingle. The redhead, feeling nervous and out of place, moved to stand in the corner as Vincent left to get some wine and champagne for everyone. The redhead stood to the corner, looking over the rewards Vincent had gotten.

"Is that-? Hey, Rody!"

The redhead turned around. A tan man with dark brown hair walked over, smiling brightly.

"Uh...?"

"It's me, Richard!"

Rody stared.

"From econ? College? You were majoring in hospitality, right?" The man offered.

"Oh, y-yeah, hey!" Rody exclaimed, "S-Sorry, college is kinda... fuzzy, I guess?"

"I stopped seeing you after awhile, did you switch majors?"

Rody stiffened a bit, before smiled awkwardly, "You must be thinking of someone else."

"Huh? No, it was definitely-"

"Not me. You're thinking of someone else."

"I could have sworn-"

"You're thinking of someone else." Rody hissed before stepping away, "I need to piss."

"Huh, wait, Rody-"

The redhead pushed passed the man, going into the kitchen. He went into the kitchen and then into the connecting hallway, walking down it. He pushed the door open and walked inside, closing it behind him. He leaned his back against it, sighing and shaking a bit. Rody took a deep breath and looked up before gasping.

"O-Oh, crap, this is not- wait..." Rody blinked, staring at the scene in front of him, "...This is Vincent's room... I wonder if I can find anything interesting!" He giggled.

The redhead looked around the room. At the back corner, there was a desk with some paperwork. It looked like it was for the restaurant, but the handwriting was barely eligible. He hummed before he looked at the typewriter, seeing Vincent must've been typing out recipes. The shelf beside the desk was filled with books and the Chef's diploma was resting on the top. He walked towards the bedside table, opening the drawer.

A key? Oh, the freezer key! He thought, putting it in his pocket. He closed the drawer and turned towards the window.

"Looking for anything specific?"

[TW: Mature part here. Again, it's just grinding, but still, don't like, don't read.]

"AH!" Rody turned around, seeing Vincent, "Ah! Vincent, you scared me!"

"You didn't answer my question."

"I-I, um, was looking for the bathroom?" Rody smiled awkwardly, shrugging.

"Uh huh?" Vincent stepped closer, Rody stepping towards the window, "And when you realized this wasn't the bathroom, you didn't leave?"

"Well..." He trailed off, "Would you believe me if I said I had short term memory loss and got distracted?"

"Not a chance." The Chef chuckled, now in front of him.

Rody smiled, one hand dancing on Vincent's shoulder, "Would you believe me if I said I just wanted to get to know you on a more personal level?"

"That's more believable. But I would think you're crazy." Vincent placed his hands on the redhead's hips.

"Didn't you already know that?" Rody teased, leaning towards him as his arms wrapped around Vincent's neck.

Vincent leaned forward, gently pressing his lips to the other's forehead, then his ears, then his neck, "Yes, but I don't believe I know the extent."

Rody shivered as the Chef kissed and sucked at his neck, "W-Want to find out? H-How crazy I am?"

"More than you know." Vincent pushed his leg between Rody's.

The redhead moaned as he leaned into him. He glanced out the window and widened his eyes. He gently pushed Vincent back.

"Is something the matter? Did I-"

"S-Someone's out there."

[End of Mature part.]

Vincent stared at the redhead for a moment before looking out the window. He narrowed his eyes and sighed, looking at Rody, who stared at the shadow of the figure, "...Why don't you go home?"

"Oh, uh- w-wait, what about the party?" Rody looked at the other.

"It's over. It was more of a work related party. Marketing and such. You just made it more bearable." Vincent offered his hand, "Come, I'll see you out."

Rody blinked before he smiled, nodding, "S-Sorry about f-freaking out."

"It's only natural. I'll deal with it." Vincent reassured.

They walked to the front door of the restaurant, where Vincent stopped. He shut the door behind him as the two men stared at each other. Rody hesitantly leaned forward, Vincent following his lead. It was a small kiss, nothing to major, but it made the redhead's heart burst into butterflies as they kissed. When they pulled back, Rody smiled brightly and blushed at the Chef, who smiled softly back.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Rody."

"See you tomorrow, Vince."

***

Rody came into work the next day, heart racing, a smile as bright as the sun resting on his face, butterflies fluttering in his stomach and chest. He set up the tables and did all the cleaning he needed to before going into the kitchen. He didn't see Vincent anywhere. He walked to the Chef's office and knocked, hearing no response. He was confused before remembering the freezer key in his pocket. He was curious as to what's in it...

He opened the freezer door and walked inside. Rody looked around it, seeing blood. It wasn't too abnormal, it was from the animal meat.

At least, that was the assumption.

Rody saw something sparkle. He turned his head to the meat grinder. He blinked, walking towards it and picking up a golden locket. He widened his eyes, opening it to see...

Him.

Him and her.

Him and Manon.

"What..."

THUNK!

***

Rody fluttered his eyes open, confused. He was bound in ropes, laying on the freezer floor. He blinked and looked around, not bothering to struggle. His lip quivered as he curled into a ball. The door opened and he looked towards it. He managed to sit up, glaring at the Chef.

"Get away from me, don't come any closer, you-"

"Stop, stop." Vincent cooed as he cleaned a sharp looking knife, "Calm down, you don't have to be doing any of that."

"WAS IT ALL A LIE?!"

The Chef widened his eyes, staring down at Rody.

"All that flirting?! All that bonding?! I-I actually thought y-you liked me..." The redhead's tears began to fall, despite how hard he tried not to, "Y-You played me! I-If you were just g-going to kill me to get to Manon, w-why didn't you just do it?!"

"What are you talking about, Rody?!" Vincent yelled, swinging his knife down, "I was never going to kill you to get to her! I told you before, I have no interest in women! What would be the point?!"

Rody blinked, "...T-Then... why do you have the locket?"

"I forgot to throw it away after I killed her. A simple mistake, honestly." 

The redhead blinked again, "So then... the blood? The meat?"

"Was from her. I was going to make you a dish and-"

"Is it done?"

Vincent widened his eyes, staring down at Rody. The redhead stared up at him, green eyes wide in wonder and awe.

"Vince, is it done?"

"...Pardon?"

"I wanna taste it, is it done?! Please tell me it's done! I want it!" Rody smiled brightly, crawling forward, "Please!"

"You... want to taste it...?"

"Of course!" The redhead giggled, leaning into the Chef's legs, "It's your food! You're gonna cook her so well! I-Is it going to be smoked?! Grilled?! Boiled?! What sides are you going to serve with her?! Are you going to serve all of her?! Oh my fucking god, Vince, you have to tell me!"

Vincent knelt down, cupping Rody's cheeks, smirking deviously, "Are you that desperate to eat her?"

"No, it's not about the fact that it's made from Manon!" Rody leaned into the Chef's hand, smile manic, "It's the fact it's your food. I don't care what you cook for me, you could server me horse dong and I'd still eat it!"

"I would never serve you that-"

"The point is-" Rody interrupted, leaning forward, brushing their noses against one another, "-I will eat anything you make me. I want it. So bad. Your cooking makes me feel so warm. It makes me feel so good. I want it so bad, I need it. I need your cooking more than I need to breathe, please-"

Vincent shut the other up with a kiss. Rody moaned into it, kissing back as the Chef cut the ropes around him. The redhead wrapped his arms around Vincent's neck, moving to sit in his lap as he deepened the kiss. Vincent held Rody's hips as they pulled away, the redhead smiling brightly down at the chef.

"How are you going to cook her?" Rody asked, giggling.

Vincent cupped his cheek, "Let me surprise you."

***

[TW: Cannibalism part here. You don't miss out on a lot if you don't want to read.]

Rody sat on the bed, swinging his legs as he hummed a tune to himself. He waited patiently (okay, not patiently, but he still waited!), barely able to control his excitement. The doorknob twisted and he smiled brightly as the Chef walked in, a plate in his hand.

"Is it done?!"

"I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't." Vincent chuckled at the redhead's eagerness. He offered the plate, "Dinner is served, Coal-Fired Heart."

Rody smiled brightly, accepting the plate. He took his fork and knife, cutting into the meat. Once he had a small piece, he put it on his tongue, chewing slowly, savoring the food.

"Well?" Vincent cupped his cheek, rubbing his thumb across it.

Rody smiled brightly, genuinely, lovingly, "Amazing as always, Vince."

Vincent smiled, "I will cook for you for the rest of our days." He kissed Rody's forehead.

"I'm holding you to that." Rody giggled, taking another bite.

#dead plate #rody lamoree #rody dead plate #vincent charbonneau #vincent dead plate #rody x vincent #cannibal #cannibalism #tw cannibalism #suggestive